


Louisiana Lovin'

by Poetgirl616



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-01-25 22:57:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 44,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21364042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poetgirl616/pseuds/Poetgirl616
Summary: Abilene Pickens never planned on the dead coming back to eat and infect the living. In a world where you have to keep moving to survive, she will have to learn who to trust. Love was definitely not on her agenda. So, why did the gruff, sleeveless hunter peak her interest? This is a rewrite of the original, once it is caught up to the original in number of chapters, I will delete the original.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 21





	1. Highway

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited 5/31/2020

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead comic or television series adaptation or either set of characters. My original characters and plot twists are my own. **

_ **Prologue**_

_ **Highway** _

Abilene May Pickens sighed, fanning herself in the Georgia heat. 

Summertime. 

The worst time for the zombie apocalypse and air conditioning to be out of commission. 

Also a bad time to be pregnant, but there was nothing to do about it now. She was nearing three months along, if her count was correct. She smoothed her hand over her decent sized bump and stared out the passengers side windows as the landscape passed by. 

It had taken almost two weeks to travel this far, avoiding overrun or impassable roads, scavenging and taking shelter by nightfall. 

Willy, her brother in heart and name, had done everything possible to ensure her comfort and safety throughout the journey. He'd apologized to her for his inability to provide air conditioning in the car, but she waved him off. The wind and the handmade fan he'd made for her to amend his imaginary wrong against her. They were the last vehicle in their groups lineup as they searched for shelter, permanent or temporary. 

The twenty four year old smiled wistfully at the thought of having a home, somewhere safe to deliver her little one. Cooler air would also be greatly appreciated, but she wouldn't be greedy. One of the two gifts would be a god send. 

A honk from up front broke the silence, halting the procession. 

Willy sighed, letting off the gas and allowing the beaten up old Chevy to crawl to a stop. He released his seat belt and reached down beside him for the rifle he kept on hand in case we ran into another, less companionable group or walker trouble. He leaned across the seat to open the glove box, pulling the six shooter pistol from inside and flicking off the safety before handing it to her. "Stay in the truck. I'll be back as soon as I can."

She nodded, swallowing hard. 

She watched him walk around the truck and pass the Toyota Camry directly in front, then further out of sight, his rifle held at the ready. 

She waited anxiously, watching every angle of the truck for signs of movement. She kept an eye on the front, also, willing him back into sight whole and safe. Two men and a woman climbed out of the Toyota, leaving their car doors open while they headed toward the head of the caravan. More people were getting out and following. 

"Ma?" A small voice whispered in fear. 

"We're okay, we're just stopping for a little bit. Someone probably has a flat tire or something, nothing to worry about." She soothed the five year old girl reflexively, eyes peeled for trouble or her brother. 

"Where's Wiwwy? I don' see him er Tim an' miss Leah. They should be together, cause they married, right?" Missy said, tugging on the bottom of her shirt as she'd done since she was a toddler. Clear blue eyes glanced up at her from under long eyelashes. 

"Yes, baby. I'm sure they're up front with Willy to help the folks who need it." Abilene reassured her, smoothing a hand over blonde curls. "He'll be back here before you know it, you'll see." 

She sincerely hoped her words had wings. 

Willy did return, what felt like an eternity later, shaking his head and the rifle barrel pointed downward. One out of two was a good sign, the first could be read in different ways. He was alone, his face was blank, but his body language screamed _tense_.

Something happened.

Sensing his wish to talk, she stepped out of the truck, turning to the girl. "Missy, why don't you go up an' see Miranda? Ask her nicely if you can play with Susie. Go on, now. If she isn't able to play, you come straight back here. No wandering and no piddlin', you hear me?"

"Kay!" The child responded cheerfully, bouncing past the Camry and toward the baby blue Dakota. 

"Willy?" Abilene probed cautiously, afraid of the answer. 

"It ain't anythin' too serious." He stated, his southern accent thick and warm. He sighed, scrubbing a hand roughly down his face. "There's a traffic snarl ahead, there's too many abandoned cars on both sides ta just turn around an' it'll take a while ta push the ones we need ta make a clear path. We're lookin' at maybe spendin' the rest'a the day here, if we take breaks an' the weather stays decent." 

"What are we gonna do about shelter? Sleeping? We can't stay out here in the open!" She fretted, fighting tears. 

"Ey, Charles is headin' a scoutin' party while the first team starts workin' on movin' the cars, I'm goin' with 'im as a extra gun. We'll find somewhere ta spend the night, I promise." He assured her, tugging her into his arms and kissing the side of her head. 

She nodded and wiped the traces of her tears away, smiling at him with complete trust. He hasn't led her wrong, yet. 

"I'mma go find that troublemaker'a ours an' make sure she minds." He said, an affectionate grin spread splitting his face as he turned to jog away. 

"Tell her to come back if Miranda or Hector can't keep her company." She called to his retreating form. A wave was all the response she got. 

God help her, she loved them both. Her ornery, mischievous troublemakers. 

* * *

**time jump**

Abilene gasped for breath, her heart pounding as fear and adrenaline pulsed through her body. She lost the walkers, but she'd also lost track of the living as well. She felt for a knife or small gun, anything to reassure her that if push came to shove she could defend herself. Nothing. _Shit_! 

She left the knife at camp, where she'd been cutting her share of meat for dinner. She must've lost her pistol during the first tumble she took down the hill a ways back. 

A snap to her right had her whole body tensing, fight or flight instincts gearing up.

She ran, flying through the forest as fast as possible with the limited light of the moon.

"Abilene!" A hoarse voice called quietly in the darkness.

She stopped, nearly tripping over a root or fallen branch. She couldn't tell which it was. 

Relief burst in her chest, replacing the heavy waves of fear.

"Hector?" She whispered, leaning her head around the tree she'd been passing.

"Thank God, _senorita_, I had feared the worst. Have you seen what became of the others? Is anyone with you?" The stocky middle aged man asked quietly.

"No, you're the first I've seen. I ran with Linda, but I lost her a little while back. I got separated from Willy early on; Charlie, Lucy, Miranda and Stacy are dead. I saw Timmy and Joel run toward the highway, but they were followed, I think. I don't know about anyone else, it all happened so fast. Did you see what happened to Willy and Missy? Do you know if they're okay?" She choked out, worry replacing relief.

Hector had moved closer while she spoke, now he paused beside a tall oak. "I didn't see Willy go down, but he was in the worst of it when I lost track of him. I never saw the little one. Jenna and Kyle are dead as well, I saw them go down. We should try to make it to the rendezvous point, in case anyone else made it."

She nodded, choking back a sob. She was grateful for a purpose, a direction. She needed to make it to the highway, to the designated rendezvous point everyone agreed on and memorized. Willy and Missy could be there waiting, safe and whole, she held onto the hope. 

They walked for what felt like the entire night, but in reality was more likely only three or four hours, resting only when no other option was available. At last, the highway came into sight.

Abilene scanned the abandoned cars; eyes straining in search of survivors, messages, or the dead.

Hope began to stutter, then fail. She didn't see anyone, or anything.

_Please be alive. Please be here. _She begged any and all gods that existed, any higher power that may or may not be listening. _Please._

"Abilene!" A whispered shout from nearby stole all the breath from her body.

She turned, blinded by tears, and ran into a muscled chest with warm arms.

"I got ya, yer okay, I got ya." A warm accented voice soothed her, rubbing her back comfortingly. "We're okay."

He was alone. A small face swam in her minds eye, sending fear racing through her veins a second time that night. "Willy, I don't know where she is!" She murmured urgently, clenching her hands in his shirt.

"She's fine, she got away with Timmy, Joel and Linda." He answered, squeezing her in reassurance.

"What do we do now, Willy?" She whispered, burying her face further into his chest.

"We move on, head down ta Atlanta like we planned, see what's what. Go from there. If Timmy, Joel and Linda find a car, they'll meet us there." 

The remains of camp were packed, the dead buried, the walkers burnt and the gas siphoned then stored in the two cars that were needed.

It was hard, preparing to leave knowing she was out there. Willy conceded to my begging, we left a note for Timmy and the others in case they came back to camp after we left. 

The newest journey began at first light. 

Willy comforted me the best he could. 

_ Atlanta _

Abilene P. O. V

It was surreal.

The three lane highway into Atlanta was completely deserted, the three lane highway _from_ Atlanta was crammed full of ruined and abandoned vehicles. The skeletal remains of Atlanta looming in the near distance.

I glanced at Willy as he drove the moving van we'd found five miles back.

"We go in, take a look round an' grab what we can wherever we can, then get out. If it even seems like a place is overrun, we bail. No stunts, no questions." He spoke firmly to me, his eyes staying on the road even though there was no danger of traffic issues.

I sighed, exasperated. One time, it was _one_ time, and he wouldn't let it go.

"Yes, sir." I barked back.

His jaw tightened and his nostrils flared.

I smirked, turning my head so he couldn't see it. _Score_.

Me: 1, Willy: 0. 

We parked the van on the outskirts of the city, along the railroad tracks so we could find it quickly, but no one else would. Just because the city seemed to be deserted, didn't mean it was, and not all survivors were inclined to make sure the vehicle isn't claimed by another group before stealing it for themselves.

We, unfortunately, learned this lesson the hard way.

We armed ourselves to the teeth with hunting knives, a machete, an axe and at least two guns each. We preferred to use the quieter weapons, but wanted to have guns in case we were at risk of being overrun. Loud, but quick and easy. 

Once in the city, I kept close to Willy, scoping out possible threats and targets.

I looked into cars carefully as we passed, searching for useful items or any reanimated passengers able to sneak up on us. So far, the occupants seemed mostly dead or gone. Good and bad for us; good, because there was no immediate threat and bad, because the passengers could be part of a herd prowling literally any part of the city.

Aren't I just chalk full of happy thoughts?

I shook my head, snorting softly to myself as I cleared my mind and kept searching. 

"What do you think?" I whispered as we crept through the streets. There was a department store somewhere on the next block, clothing shop two buildings down and another building I was unsure of a bit further down.

I didn't see any bodies or evidence of the dead taking residence inside the clothing shop or the antique shop next to it, but that mean nothing. Nothing is certain when it comes to scavenging unknown buildings in the new world, other than you need to watch your ass and your partners back.

"We'll hit the clothing store, then maybe check out the antiques shop-see if there's anythin' useful in it. Work our way from there." He whispered back, head constantly on the swivel, eyes scanning the streets.

Gaining entry to the store was easy, there were four walkers within sight that were easy to dispatch due to the distance between each. The clothes racks were slimmer than I liked, some grimy and unrecognizable pieces of clothing were strewn on the floor. The counters, racks, walls and everything else in the store was covered in dust and grime that I don't care to analyze too closely. The air was thick with the smell of dust, decay, and a hint of musk.

I scurried down the aisles, always alert, scanning the racks for anything in my or Willy's size. I found a few things that wouldn't cause us to overheat, but not as much as I'd hoped.

I crept further into the store, pistol and knife at the ready.

It was quiet.

It put me on edge.

I kept moving forward, scanning my surroundings. A flash of color caught my eye and I turned cautiously to gain a better look.

I couldn't contain my grin. Luck was on our side, today.

I practically flew toward the maternity racks, eagerly sorting through anything that caught my eye and grabbing as much as I could carry of the sizes that were still readily available. This would really take a load off of Willy, I couldn't wait to tell him.

The thought made me freeze. I hadn't seen him for a few minutes at least and I hadn't kept track of where he was or where I was going like I was supposed to. Crap. He's going to have my head when he finds me. If nothing else finds us first.

I finished gathering my haul into my pack and began to carefully work my way to where I thought the front of the store is.

A sudden smack of metal made me jump, my pulse speeding up.

I jogged over to a nearby wall partition display and took cover, reaching for the hunting knife tucked in its sheath at my side as I steadily scanned the store. It slid free without a sound and I drew it up beside my face, ready to stab anything that wandered too close. I could almost hear the tense music for Jaws playing in the background as I waited, barely daring to breathe. 

A shuffling and groaning growing nearer confirmed my worst fear.

_Where is it? Where the hell is it? I can't see it_. I thought, beginning to panic. _What if it got Willy when I wasn't paying attention? How long has it been here? Where the hell is it? Where is it?!_

I glanced around at the nearby racks, but nothing seemed overly familiar. Shit! I must have gone deeper in than I thought. Think! Listen!

I closed my eyes for a moment, straining my ears to attempt to pinpoint where the sounds were originating from. There, to my left, I think. What's over that way? Think, think.

Sports? To the right is men's shirts, maybe men's sweats or coats. Is there a clear-ish path between here and there? What about beyond that point?

I listened again, the groaning was only marginally closer. I still had time, it hadn't noticed me.

I chanced a small peek to my right, to get a quick lay of the land, so to speak.

There was a decently stocked rack beside me, little on the floor to trip me up, it seemed like there was good running room for a fair distance. It looks like it's my best shot, if I don't want to waste ammunition and risk drawing more walkers to this position.

Okay. Deep breath in, breath out. Let's do this.

I made a break for it, grabbing the nearest rack and slamming it back into the walkers path, creating a temporary road block. I ran as fast as I was able, elbowing racks that were too close to me to prevent them from slowing me down, throwing them back toward the walker whenever I could. My heart was pounding, the walkers snarls and my labored breath filled my ears, fear and adrenaline pumping through my body pushing me to move faster. I felt every bounce of my pack against my back, very aware that it could be used against me if the walker ever got close enough, terrified of that possibility becoming a reality.

I could see the entrance to the store now, hope surging in my chest at the sight.

A sudden thud broke the pattern of sound I had become accustomed to, making me pause.

Breathing hard, I spun around, half poised to resume running in case the walker had just tripped on something.

Willy was standing over the walker, the hunting knife in his hand covered in dark, congealed blood. I started to sob, relief slamming into me with the forced of a freight train.

He welcomed me into his arms, squeezing me as hard as I squeezed him, reassuring himself I was alive.

"Damn it, Abilene. What the hell happened?" He demanded, pulling back and fixing me with a hard glare.

"I lost track of how far in I'd gone. I'm sorry, Willy." I choked, tears still streaming from my eyes. I _knew_ better. I was stupid and careless, and I almost got eaten because of it. Fresh memories of running and being hunted by the dead made me shiver involuntarily. He should take a piece out of my hide for risking myself like that over some damn clothes, of all things, but it didn't look like he would. 

His glare softened slightly. "We gotta go if we wanna get ta that antique store. Stay close this time, ya ain't leaving my side again. Ya do, I'll find a damn rope ta tie ya ta me I swear ta God."

I nodded, wiping my face.

The streets appeared just as deserted as when we'd arrived, which was good. I didn't want another run in so soon after the last one. I don't think Willy or I would handle it very well.

The antique store was untouched, at least two inches of dust layered everything in sight. The store was clear of walkers, which was a good sign. Faded white walls and sturdy wood tables were the bulk of the store contents. Anything you think of when you hear antique shop was here; gadgets, bobbles, memorabilia, books, figurines, furniture, and appliances to list a few.

I wasn't completely sure what we could find useful here, but sometimes you find the best stuff in places other people wouldn't think to scavenge. It was practically our policy to not scoff at any building that used to be a business or home of some sort. Fools who only went to known, familiar public fronts for supplies had been eaten and every one had stuck their nose up at a perfectly good alternative second hand store or antique shop. Willy and I still put them out of their misery and buried them, because it's what you do for your people. _Period_. 

I sighed, refocusing on the present. Let's see what there is to see in here. 

I picked up a few books I recognized. The Lord of the Rings, _first edition_, with an autograph on the first page. Dracula, Frankenstein, the good classics.

Willy and I moved deeper into the store, looking for anything promising. I was quickly giving up hope that we would find something that we would actually need the longer I stood in this store. Sorry, Willy, but I think your gut was wrong on this one.

After a thorough search throughout the store, we packed away a few useful things. Mostly starter material for our fires. There were these beautiful hand crafted knives that I absolutely loved, sharp and a bit ornate, that I found. Willy found a compass, so that's something.

He knew it wasn't much, but I didn't say anything, his face held enough disappointment.

We decided to head back to the van, call it a day while our luck held.

Willy walked ahead of me, at least five feet between us, with his damn long legs.

Suddenly, his entire body tensed, and he moved a bit faster. There wasn't any tension when he moved forward, like before, just speed. I frowned, picking up my pace to match his.

He crouched beside a burnt pick up truck, at least four feet ahead of me.

What the hell was he doing?

I walked faster, eating the distance between us in half the time.

He turned to me, shaking his head. "Abilene, ya ain't gonna believe this."

I stared, shock rocking through my entire body. "Is he dead?"

The guy certainly looked like he could be dead. A bloody rag of some sort hand been wrapped around his hand. It's a miracle the walkers hadn't gotten to him, as far as I was concerned. He was either lucky or tougher than nails.

Willy and I exchanged a look, deliberating.

* * *

_Time jump_

Willy packed up the last of our supplies, while I waited inside the cab.

The little campsite hadn't been much, but it had been peaceful while it lasted.

Can't go back, only forward.

Atlanta had been a bust, but that doesn't mean there isn't hope. So, we're going to continue along the highway and see where it leads.


	2. Safe Haven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited 5/31/2020

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead or anything related other than this story and it's plot. **

_ **Safe Haven** _

Willy cursed next to her, his beat up Chevy crawling to a stop. The highway was caught up in a big snarl, even bigger than the one we'd encountered with our previous group. Abandoned vehicles were parked, some were even crashed, on both lanes. It was absolute mayhem. There was no way we could push through in the truck. Going back held nearly as many risks as going forward, possibly even more. We couldn't waste the gas it would take to double back to the gas station, though. 

"What do we do now?" I asked, worrying my lip.

"I'll get out on foot an' try ta find somewhere ta spend the night. Ya stay put, holler if ya need me." He answered, his southern accent thick and warm. He grabbed the rifle, handing me the pistol before leaving the truck.

"Be careful," I murmured.

I waited obediently in the truck, holding the pistol for dear life. Anxiety filled my thoughts when he didn't come back after half an hour.

My stomach rumbled hungrily and my bladder protested being ignored. I rubbed an absent hand over my bump, it was bigger now since I was nearing five months. 

Stay and take the chance of peeing down my leg, or hop out for a bathroom break?

A good, solid cramp made up my mind.

I opened the passenger door as quietly as I could and carefully exited the truck. A bit of brush over the side railing would make as good a place as any for a quick pee.

Mama didn't raise no fool, I kept the pistol ready even with my comfortable maternity yoga pants around my ankles.

I made my way back to the highway and sighed when I realized I had accidentally wandered too far up. The truck was a few yards down.

I caught sight of a minivan with an open trunk. A small bit of a baby carrier was visible in the back seat.

I shoved away the initial twinge of sadness as I imagined what may have happened to the people who used to own the vehicle. It didn't help anyone and there was nothing I could do about it. It just served to make me sad and mopey. 

Instead, I decided to shift through the items in the trunk.

I held up a pair of baby shoes. Looking a little further, I found onesies and diapers. I folded the onesies and held them in one arm.

Rooting through the front of the vehicle, I found the empty baby carrier, covered in plastic. Three bottles of adult pain killers. Six bottles of children's medicines, each. Five rolls of gauze, bandages, and a suture kit. Ten bottles of water, six cans of soup, granola bars and a cigarette tube box of prenatal vitamins.

Jackpot! I sang, relief flooding my chest. I had lost mine during the outbreak.

I arranged my findings in a diaper bag, what I couldn't fit in it, I placed in a cloth Wal-Mart bag.

I strolled happily back to the truck, I had done well. We had more supplies, extras in case we couldn't find any later.

I frowned, my good mood dimming when I didn't see my brother by or in the truck. I'd hoped he'd returned by now, though part of me realized it would be unrealistic. I didn't like him out here alone and he wouldn't let me go with him, we were at an almost constant impasse when it came to the matter of me going with him as backup. If anyone else from the group were here, or if it was close enough I could keep an eye on him, I would feel better. Not having eyes on him made me antsy, _anxious_. 

I added my haul to the loot already in the cab, lifting myself into the passengers seat and shutting the door securely behind me. 

I'd sit pretty for now, but if I didn't see him by sun down, I'd go looking for him. 

* * * * *

I groaned, fanning myself with the hand fan in an effort to cool down. The heat rose as the sun climbed higher in the sky. Closed quarters only made it worse. 

I felt like I was about to melt, I was so damn hot. 

I reached for the canteen of water I'd practically glued to my side since the day started heating up, unscrewing the lid like my life depended on it and tipping it to my eager lips. 

A single drop plopped against my lower lip. 

_Son of a biscuit!_ I whined internally. I glanced around the cab for more, cringing when I saw the remains of three more empty canteens and water bottles. That was the whole of our stock that we'd stored in the front of the truck. If we had any water, it'd be stashed in the bed with the rest of our belongings, under the tarp stretched taut enough I always feared it would eventually tear wide open. 

My search into the bed for water was in vain. 

There was nothing else for it. I'd have to scavenge the surrounding vehicles for water. 

I played it safe, starting with the cars and trucks closest to ours and working slowly outward. I kept a knife in hand, pistol tucked in the back of my pants in easy reach as I looked. 

I found many things. Some clothes, not all of them worth grabbing since I couldn't use them. Matches, canned food, dirty magazines----no, thank you----dirty movies, a harmonica, boots. Books, fishing gear, family pictures, empty picture frames, spoiled food, gum. Water, some gatorade, cat stuff, curtains, a pretty seas shell collection. Just--a lot of stuff. I grabbed all the useful stuff I could and didn't bother with the rest.

The water wasn't cold, but I didn't care. 

I glanced up at the sky, measuring with my hand the suns progress. Not quite two fingers from when I'd last seen it, so it hasn't been too terribly long. 

I had my treasures, I could call it a day. 

I spun on my heel, back tracking to the truck with a spring in my step. 

A familiar figure was a foot from the truck, advancing on me when he caught sight of me. 

"There ya are. Damn it, Abilene, I was gettin' worried about ya." Willy hissed, grasped my arm and pulling me toward the truck. "Where the hell did ya go, anyway?"

"My canteen was empty and so were the others. I found some water and extra supplies. Look, Willy, I was able to scrounge up some stuff for the baby." I leaned into the truck, reaching into the diaper bag and held up a onesie for him to see.

Willy's face softened. "That's great, jus' don' wander off next time. I'll do the searchin'."

"There's a baby carrier where I found all this. Could we bring it with us, Willy?" I asked hopefully.

He sighed, tugging softly on the strap of my bag. "Put this in the truck, first, an' then we'll go get that carrier."

I grinned, happy. "Deal."

It took a little longer to find the second time, but I was able to give him easy to follow directions to the car and let him do the grunt work.

"What did you find?" I asked, sucking on a lollipop he'd found on his original search.

"Nice place up the way, good distance from the road. Land, house, plenty of space an' good chances of seeing a herd 'fore they see us. It's perfect." He grinned happily, starting up the truck and throwing it in reverse. "No lights, no movement. I think it's as good a place as any ta spend the night."

Willy pulled up to a beautiful farm with a large white house. "What d' ya think?"

"Oh, Willy, this is perfect." I squealed happily. "Help me with the gear so we can get settled."

He opened his mouth, but was cut off when an older gentleman, a man and two women exited the house. The younger man looked to be in his thirties or forties, heavily built. One of the ladies was in her twenties and the other must have been in her thirties to forties.

I turned to Willy, frowning. I thought he'd cleared the area. He said. . . .

My brother grabbed the shotgun, as a precaution, hopping out of the truck. "Stay here, Abilene."

"Willy!" I whispered urgently. Anxiety and fear surged in me. I didn't want to be left in the truck by myself. There could be more people out there somewhere, hidden, lying in wait. I wasn't terrible with a gun, but given the right circumstances I'd be helpless and unable to fight back. 

He walked forward, gun held loosely in his right hand, pointing at the ground as he headed to the porch.

I watched, helpless, as the only family and protection I had stroll up onto the porch. The older gentleman opened his mouth and words were exchanged.

Willy gestured to the truck a few times, his back to me and his body language protective, but not hostile. That was a good sign, I suppose.

I shifted, my stomach rumbling loudly. This was a horrible time to be hungry, but sometimes nerves did that to me. 

All the supplies were in the bed of the truck. I'd already gone through the snacks Willy had stashed in the glove box for me. I rubbed my stomach, hoping whatever negotiations the residents and Willy were conducting would be over soon. Peacefully, preferably. 

Willy nodded to something the older man said and jogged back to the truck. He came around to my side of the truck and reached for me.

"What's going on?" I asked, genuinely curious and nervous. 

"Hershel has agreed ta let us stay 'til a few months after the baby is born, we should be able to meet up with anyone who made it out by then. I'mma help with farm chores an' manual work 'round the property." Willy explained, helping me down. He reached inside the cab and handed me the only thing light enough I was allowed to carry for any length of time. He was overprotective that way, one of many ways actually. 

"And me?" I checked, worrying my lip. I absentmindedly slid the strap of the medium sized purse further up my shoulder. 

What could I do that would go against my lifting restrictions?

"The women agreed tha' you'd help gather eggs an' do some cookin', gather vegetables. Simple stuff tha' won' put too much strain on eitha of ya." He replied easily.

"Willy, could you grab one of the containers from the back?" I shot him a small, sheepish smile.

He chuckled, undoing the tarp and taking out a container of homemade jerky.

"Ooh, jerky." I immediately opened the container and nibbled on a strip.

Willy shook his head, smiling fondly as he led me to the house.

"Hello there. You must be Abilene." The older gentleman, Hershel, greeted. He wasn't necessarily a tall man, he wasn't thin or obese, but rather somewhere in the middle ground. He had a clean shaven face, but looked used to hard weather and hard labor. His kind, watery blue eyes mirrored the smile on his face. "I am Hershel Greene. My daughters, Maggie and Beth. That is Otis and his wife Patricia. The shy young man over there is Jimmy."

"Hello." I murmured, blushing when I realized that I was pigging out on jerky in front of them. A great first impression, I'm sure.

"Let's get you set up in the guest room. Dinner is at six. You can get started on your chores tomorrow." Hershel walked into the house.

"Follow me." The pretty brunette, Maggie, said. She was a little on the taller side, but didn't clear six feet by no means. She has some muscles from manual labor, but nothing bulged like you see in extreme male or female body builders. Her hair was chin length, straight and shiny. 

I felt even more disgusting faced with the clean, freshly clothed brunette. 

We followed her into the house.

I was floored. The inside was _gorgeous_. 

It was obviously heavily southern influenced, but not tacky. There was a mix of modern and traditional that blended together very beautifully. 

I particularly loved the dining room. 

The guest room was modest and clean. The theme a kind of small flower pattern.

"It's pretty. I like it." I smiled, sitting on the bed. "Thank you, Maggie."

"Since y'all ain't married, he has to sleep separate. Daddy put him in the other guest room." The brunette replied seriously.

"It ain't like that. He's my brother." I quickly stated, glancing at her. 

"He'll still have to sleep in the guest room, since he's a man." She didn't bat a lash at my words, didn't seem to care at all.

"Where is that?" I whispered, anxious. How far away would he be?

"Just a little ways. You'll see each other durin' the day." She ushered Willy out of the door without giving us a chance to say anything.

What on Earth? How was I supposed to sleep without hearing my brothers snoring somewhere close by? Over the past two months, I'd become used to his snoring being close to me. I didn't even know where the other guest room was. What if I needed to talk to him and it couldn't wait until morning?

I rubbed my baby bump, worrying my lip. The sun was receding, the sky a pretty variety of color. Pinks, yellows, purples. 

A knock on my door distracted me from my observations.

"Come in." I called.

Beth poked her head inside. She was a tad shorter than her sister, thin and willowy. Her golden blonde hair was shoulder length, pulled up into a ponytail with a braid through the length of it. She had pale skin and deep blue eyes, large and innocent. Kind, _warm_. "Dinner's ready."

"I'll be down in a few minutes." I replied. I wanted to get the layout of my new room.

She left, a curious look on her face but she must have thought it impolite to ask.

I hefted myself onto my feet, tracing our previous path and made my way carefully down the stairs. It was a habit I was trying to get into for when I became so big I couldn't see my feet. I hated making people wait on me, but better safe than sorry.

I finally entered the dining room. Everyone was already seated, which worsened the guilt of them waiting for me.

"I'm sorry for making all of you wait for me." I murmured, blushing in embarrassment.

"Come're an' sit down." Will pulled out the chair beside him.

I took the seat. The dining room smelled absolutely heavenly. "Dinner smells amazing."

"Patricia and the girls have always been exceptional cooks." Otis declared, kissing his wife's hand.

"Aww." I cooed, smiling at the couple as she blushed. It was so sweet.

The platters were passed, soon nothing was heard but polite requests and the clink of silverware.

The baked chicken was juicy and tender, falling apart in my mouth as flavor burst on my tongue. I hummed and ate my portion greedily. The mashed potatoes and gravy was the best I'd had since mama passed four years ago.

"Wow! Otis was right. That was fantastic!" I exclaimed, happily stuffed with great food.

"Thank you kindly." Patricia smiled at me.

I helped gather dishes and I learned more about the girls as we washed up. Maggie and Beth had different mothers. Maggie's mama passed when she was younger. Hershel married Beth's mama, who had a son from a previous marriage. 

Sadly, neither made it through the outbreak.

I was genuinely sad that they lost two important people in their lives so recently. Maggie lost two mothers in less than twenty five years. It couldn't have been easy.

Soon after, we all said good night and left for our separate rooms to sleep.

We all had chores to do in the morning.

* * *

It had been a week since Willy and I had found the Greene farm, our new sanctuary, and it was going quite smoothly, considering. Considering the fact that we were all strangers, different ages and personalities living together in close together. 

The first day of chores had been a little rough on me, since I wasn't used to standing or walking for long lengths of time. Willy had always made sure to keep the truck stocked with gas, so we wouldn't need to walk. The previous groups I had been in had had enough manpower to do all the grunt work and the rest was laundry or cooking. Holding school for the children, simple easy to do tasks that usually involved more sitting than standing.

It was better now that I had time to become used to the work.

My chores consisted of helping cook, wash dishes or laundry, and feed the chickens. I also fetched eggs, did a little scrubbing on things I could reach standing up, and pulled vegetables from the gardens.

I was allowed to help with the garden with supervision. Hershel and Willy were concerned about dehydration, overheating, unnecessary strain. The latter knew how much I wanted this arrangement to work, so much so that I would work a teensy bit harder than he'd prefer. 

Hershel took care of monitoring my blood pressure and vital signs.

I was thankful that the veterinarian was willing to check on the little one. He considered his or her health one of the few items on top priority.

Hershel and his family had done so much for me and Willy. We'd be forever grateful to them.

I sighed, rubbing my lower back as it protested, ending my contemplation. I shook more of the feed onto the ground around the coop.

I was almost done, six more handfuls and I could rest for a short time.

Willy and Jimmy were doing some hauling. Patricia and Beth were straightening up in the house. Maggie had gone for a medical supply run on one of the horses.

Horses. That's another thing I loved about living on a farm. Regardless of the smell that often accompanies the large animals.

The boys exercised the horses and messed with the cattle. They did the plowing as well.

Hershel planted the seeds and watered the crops by hand when it didn't rain enough.

So, really, nothing had changed. The men still did all the actual grunt work and women did the less stressful, but equally time consuming tasks.

I finished feeding the chickens and walked to the porch to sit in the chair Willy had set out for me.

The chair was comfortable, the extra cushion making it soft and welcoming.

I took the moment of quiet to think.

The others from either of our groups hadn't caught up, yet. The sign we left must not have been found, or they could've found trouble on the road. I don't think it'd rained hard enough or long enough to wash any of it away. 

Thinking about one member of the group in particular had me thinking even harder. I missed her every day and prayed for her safe return. 

I was lucky that the Pickens family decided to adopt me. Many couples peeked at my file and immediately went for another kid. The few that did boarder me only took me in for the fat check they'd get for taking care of me. 

Mark and Lauren Pickens were different. They genuinely wanted me for _me_, not because I brought in money.

I was eight when they adopted me. That was so long ago.

I was in my twenties now.

"Abilene, Hershel wants you to tend the garden some more today." Otis informed me, breaking me out of my thoughts of the past.

"Alright." I replied, lifting myself out of the chair.

I walked to the gardens, determined to leave the thoughts of the past behind me, sitting on the porch.

I donned my gardening gloves and the necessary tools, sliding the handle of the wicker basket I used for the vegetable up my arm until it rested comfortably just beneath my elbow. Satisfied with my preparations, I turned and began walking in the direction of the vegetable garden.

I carefully lowered myself down and began to work the soil, picking out any weeds I found and rocks that had been accidentally tossed in. A few carrots and beets were ready to be uprooted, so I placed those in the basket to take to the kitchen. The scent of earth and growing things filled my nostrils, making me sneeze once, but otherwise welcome. 

Once I was finished tending the garden, I stood and took the basket in to clean the vegetables.

I removed the gloves and placed the tools neatly on the porch before entering the house.

Hershel was sitting at the dining room table eating a sandwich and drinking home squeezed juice from things we grew in the garden.

I made a face at the smell of mustard. My sensitive nose really disliked the condiment. It was overpowering and smelled _awful_. 

I grimaced when a bit oozed out of the sandwich and plopped onto the plate underneath it.

_Ew. What did people see in the stuff? It's a bright yellow, thick and smells absolutely_ horrible. I shuddered, fighting a wave of nausea. I would rather do many other questionable things than have any quantity of that stuff anywhere _near_ my mouth, let alone _in_ _it_. 

I quickened my pace to the kitchen, waving at the veterinarian as I passed him.

I wasted no time washing the carrots and beets, placing them in the plastic bags they have at the grocery store. Maggie brought two large rolls of them home on one of her runs to town a few days ago. They helped a great deal when it came to storing perishables until dinner time in this heat.

I replaced the wicker basket on my arm and grabbed the wire basket for eggs before turning from the kitchen. I left the house, tossing a good afternoon over my shoulder as I passed the dining room.

I dropped the wicker basket in a corner of the porch and strolled to the coop to see if I could gather any eggs today.

I found the coop busy, all the hens on the farm were inside laying on their nests.

_Perfect_. I thought, grinning.

I entered through the human sized door, walking to the left side of the coop first. I went down the rows in order, checking under every chickens rear.

I had done good. I found at least a dozen eggs today. I mentally cheered at my good luck.

Hershel had made it a rule that we were only to collect half the eggs we find so the cycle of life could continue. This meant we had to be extra careful to keep track of who collects, when we collect, and how often we collect.

I write my findings, as well as the date and estimated time of my visit on the clipboard hanging on the outside of the coop.

I hummed a happy little song from my time with the Pickens as I walked the eggs to the house.

It was hard not to be in a good mood. Only two walkers had been spotted near the farm after Willy and I arrived. There hadn't been any other sightings since.

It was safe here.

I could build a life here with my baby. It was a safe enough place for us to stay until Missy finds us, somewhere she could grow up.

I still held hope. 


	3. Hunting Trip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3/4/2020

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead or anything to do with it, except for this story and it's plot. **

_ **Hunting Trip ** _

I beamed at Beth, leaning in and whispering behind my hand. She giggled, unsuccessfully smothering a smile. 

"What're ya bein' so secretive bout over there?" Willy asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously after we did the same routine twice in a row. 

I bat my eyelashes at him innocently. "Nothin, dear brother of mine."

"Uh-huh." He hummed, not believing it for a second. 

"Well, it's supposed to be a secret, but I suppose I can say. . . ." I trailed off purposefully, drawing him in. I leaned in, as close to him as I could and whispered low so only he heard me. "We're trading the names of our lovers. Steamy details are encouraged and included, of course. I could pass them along, if you'd like." 

He frowned at me, he wasn't amused.

"Alright, alright." I relented, done with my teasing. "I was just telling Beth about that fishing trip we took five years ago." 

He straightened in his chair, food and teasing momentarily forgotten, and groaned. "Dang it, woman, ya promised!" 

Hershel noticed the outburst, turning his attention to us, dropping his conversation with Patricia. 

"I did no such thing." I protested, smiling sweetly. 

He glared at me. "Don't ya dare." 

I ignored him, launching into the story. I stood up at one point, miming casting and yanking on a fishing rod, exaggerating the motions occasionally. Hershel cracked a small smile, eyes shining in mild amusement. I sat back down, going in for the kill, so to speak. "Honestly, I didn't know what to do. Willy's sitting in the boat, leaning back and his rod is nearly bowed in half. He's screaming and hollering, I can't tell if he's talking to me or the fish!" I exclaimed, laughing. 

"I was talking ta _ya_." Willy grumbled, frowning. Manly pouting, but I didn't call him out on it. 

"You were hollering 'git over here! C'mon!' How was I supposed to know you meant me?" I countered, raising an eyebrow at him. 

"I told ya ta grab the net!" He exclaimed, stabbing his fork viciously into some mashed potatoes. The metal clinked loudly, earning him a stern glare from Patricia. He ducked his head sheepishly and proceeded to eat with less _vigor_. 

"You did not!" I smacked his arm when he nodded his head. "You said no such thing, Willy Ray Pickens." 

The Greene family laughed at our expense. Otis and Patricia shook their heads and smiled. 

It was nice, to sit at the table during dinner and enjoy ourselves. 

Our time on the road was always serious. Willy had to be alert and focused the entire time to keep us alive. I missed seeing him laugh, goof off like he used to before the world went to hell. 

"Fine. Yer right an' I'm wrong." My southern brother finally admitted, grumbling and stirring his food. 

I smiled. I hadn't seen him relaxed enough to do that in a long time. 

"Thank you for conceding defeat so graciously." I teased, nudging his shoulder with mine. 

"Yeah, yeah." 

"So, Jimmy, how were the cattle this afternoon?" Hershel inquired, bringing the serious note to the table. 

"A few tried to fight, but none escaped. All in all, a good day." The young man answered, taking a sip of his iced tea. 

I glanced at my glass of water dismally. It was healthy, sure, and it was smart given the heat--my condition. It was also tiring after a while. I missed flavored water, Kool-Aid, tea, and soda. _God_, did I miss soda. My avoidance when it had been more readily available, had been for health reasons. Only consume what's good for the baby, never ever any junk food. 

I swear I'd do dang near anything for a soda. Just a little sip. 

My mouth watered at the thought. 

A firm pat on my leg jarred me out of my fantasy. I discreetly wiped my mouth to check for drool. 

"You feeling alright, dear?" Hershel asked kindly. I noticed the others at the table watching me with concern. 

"I'm a bit tired." I answered truthfully. It seemed the further along I got, the more he seemed to drain my energy based on my level of activity. "I think I'll turn in a little earlier tonight, if you don't mind." 

"Not at all, as long as you're feeling relatively well." He replied, focusing his attention elsewhere. Jimmy had more to add on the livestock front of the conversation. I tuned out, working on finishing my food as quickly as was still polite. 

We all took turns talking about our day, sharing a few stories that were appropriate for the dinner table. 

It felt domestic. Sort of like a family dinner, though I know we weren't close enough to be considered family by a long shot. This reminded me of meals with the Pickens, before the Turn, before. . . ._before_. A sharp ache tugged at my chest, threatening to swallow me whole. _Missy_. I shook the thoughts away so I wouldn't bring down the light atmosphere surrounding the table.

Well, I tried to, they were persistent. 

There'd still been no word. I was trying my best to be strong and hold out hope, but it was becoming harder the more time that passed without a single sign or sight of her. Not even a hint. 

Willy's kept up a strong face, but I can tell it's wearing on him as well. His eyes give him away. 

I tucked the thoughts back in their corner and tuned into the conversation flowing around me. 

Maggie reported that there were less walkers in town and there were also less medical supplies in the pharmacy she goes to for Hershel. 

Good news followed by bad. 

We resolved to speak more on the matter when the time came. For now, Maggie would continue to run to the pharmacy for anything we needed.

The rest of the evening was uninteresting. The dishes were done in silence, every one tuckered out after the day.

I dressed in a comfortable pretty pink nightgown Maggie brought back for me. I said my nightly prayers and hummed a song as I brushed out my hair. I got into bed, sighing happy at the soft silky sheets.

I was out before I felt my head touch the pillow.

* * *

I shifted in bed, blinking my eyes open and hissing when blinding sunlight shone into them. 

I was still so tired, even though I had to have slept close to if not exactly ten hours. 

I forced myself to leave the bed and dress for the day. My chores needed done and there was no reason to laze about in bed all day. 

I trudged through my day, finishing chores done with heavy yawning throughout the day. I had to take several breaks in an attempt to conserve energy and drank water Willy and Patricia brought to me. I was growing more concerned. I hadn't been this tired, this drained. . . for years. It was disconcerting and I didn't like it. I struggled to keep my eyes open during dinner that night and practically fell into bed when I couldn't eat another bite. 

The next morning, I barely stumbled out of the bed before I was violently throwing up over the floor and myself. My legs buckled and I fell onto my hands and knees, body heaving. 

It felt endless. Whenever I thought I was done, another wave hit. 

My eyes stung with tears and my throat burns. 

I coughed and spit, choking a little before my throat cleared and I could breathe again. 

I crawled backward, away from the puddle of vomit, tears streaming down my cheeks and covered my nose so the smell didn't trigger an encore. I used the bed to support my weight as I stood up, waddling to the linen closet to find something to clean the mess, careful to keep my nose plugged. I didn't want anyone else seeing this, or having to bother with it. My mouth tasted gross and I felt disgusting, shaky and weak. 

I had to pause halfway down the hallway to lean against the wall. 

"Abilene? What's wrong?" Maggie rushed to me, her hands grabbing my shoulders and worried eyes checking me over. "Hey, look at me." 

"I got sick." I whimpered, voice low and ashamed. I was so tired, I didn't feel well. 

Sympathy and understanding flashed over her face, her eyes never lost their worry. "Okay, let's get you back to bed. C'mon, there we go." 

I let her lead me back to the bedroom without protest, but I had the urge to cry when I saw the puddle of vomit in the floor in front of the bed. It stunk to high heaven and the acidity wasn't good for the hardwood. 

"It's alright, we'll get that cleaned up in a jiffy. Let's get you comfortable and laid down, first, okay?"

I nodded, allowing her to strip off my night shirt and pulled a fresh one on. She brought me a glass of water, a spit bowl and a cap full of mouth wash. The last item made my mouth feel and taste better. Beth came in with towels, some gloves, a bucket and a mop. She got straight to work while Maggie tucked me into bed and left to find Hershel, Willy too if she could manage it since I asked for him. I wanted him to stroke my hair and sing to me, like he and mama did when I was sick as a kid. It always helped and I didn't want to be alone. 

It was selfish and I knew he had other things to do, I felt guilty for being so selfish, but I wanted someone familiar. I wanted my family. 

Maggie and Beth were kind, they were good people taking care of me like they were, but they weren't my kin. 

Days passed, I remained sick, a few times getting worse before starting to recover a bit or at least get a small degree better. Hershel and Willy were growing worried the longer this. . . whatever it was persisted. I was given homemade soup, elderberry tea and given orders for strict bed rest. I saw Hershel reading through his books beside my bed on several occasions, trying to figure out what was wrong and how to beat it. Maggie and Beth were ordered to stay away, but Patricia took over my care and Willy refused to leave my side longer than it took him to finish his chores.

I insisted, he'd go crazy otherwise. 

A lot of my time was missing, or just plain fuzzy. Bits and pieces not really adding up. 

I slept. 

* * *

I sat up, rubbing my eyes.

Movement to my right caught my attention and I swung my head in that direction.

Willy slept, torso bent over the bed with his head pillowed on his arms. He stirred in his sleep, nuzzling his arms with his face. 

I slipped out of bed and relieved myself, sliding in as carefully as I could. 

He jerked awake, his upper body stretching as he blinked the sleep out of his eyes, yawning. A hand automatically moved to scratch his stomach in the middle of his stretching. He froze the instant our eyes met.

"Hey." I said, smiling softly. 

He lunged at me, pulling me hard into him and squeezing. "Thank God." 

I pretended not to hear the thickness in his voice, hugging him back as tightly. Of all the things that we considered a threat these days, it was simple to forget that common colds and flu were known to potentially become fatal years ago. We were accustomed to visiting the doctor, picking up our medication and that was that. Colds and flu were cured, kicked, beaten. Not a problem. 

Now, the world was different. There weren't doctors anymore. No pharmacist to warn you about side effects of this or that medication, suggest alternatives that would better suit your needs and income status. 

Once the readily made medication expires, that's it. It's all _gone_. 

It hadn't hit home until now. What it meant, how serious it was. 

It terrified me. What if I'd died and turned with Willy beside me? He'd been sleeping, too. I could've killed him without alerting the others until it was too late. Who would've been next. Hershel? Patricia? Maggie? Sweet, shy Beth?

I couldn't stand the thought. 

i snuggled closer, squeezed tighter, breathed him in. Taking comfort from his warmth, his scent, the faint thrum of his heartbeat I could feel. He was alive. He was here. Everything was okay, now. 

I nudged him away eventually, playfully smacking him upside the head. "Go on, fill me in on everything I missed. How was farm life while I was laying around all day?"

He knew what I was doing, his eyes didn't lie, but he let me. 

He obeyed, telling me everything everyone had been doing since I fell ill. I'd been down for nearly a week, by his count. No, Hershel didn't really know what was wrong or how it happened, but the treatment worked if belatedly. Otis was leaving on a hunt in the morning, which sent unease through my body as it usually did, but I didn't say a word. My chores had been taken up by Patricia and the girls, Jimmy took on some of Willy's so he could be here as much as humanly possible without shirking off completely. Farm life had otherwise resumed without me, but he hadn't said those words. He had really been worried. They all had. 

Whatever it was, I was over it now. 

However, Hershel wanted to play it safe and restricted me to bed for another day or two, in case. The sheets and everything else on the bed were changed, fluffed, you name it. 

I settled into my isolation without complaint, understanding his caution. Didn't mean I liked it, but I understood. 

At least I had books to entertain myself. 

I was left to my own devices an hour or so after Hershel's assessment. 

I glanced out the window, the scene never changing. I had a view of the south yard behind the house. It had been cared for, but no one messed around back there. It's too bad, there was plenty of room and potential. Willy was gifted, good at crafting things and working with his hands, though he denied it vehemently. He told me once that it was calming, the smooth motions of sanding and the soft sounds of the tools on wood. 

I tacked it as a Willy thing, I didn't quite understand it, but he loved it. 

The shoulder on my nightgown slid down my arm on one side, drawing me from my musing. I tugged it up roughly, then stared at my bare arm. 

No, _bare_ was the incorrect term. 

My forearm was littered with round, circular burn scars. Discolored, puckered scars from wrist to elbow. They were spaced out randomly, no rhyme or reason behind their positioning. 

I turned my face away, disgusted. _They_ were disgusting. 

They were reminders of a past I'd rather bury at the center of the Earth. 

A knock on the door saved me from my downward spiraling. Willy opened the door, but didn't enter. "Dinner's ready. Change an' come down when yer presentable." 

I threw a pillow at him, which he dodged. Jerk.

"I'll bring ya a plate after I wash up." He told me seriously, grinning like a loon. "Maybe keep ya company if ya can behave like a civilized person." 

I stuck my tongue out at him, raising another pillow in preparation to fire. 

He ducked out of the room, laughing. 

I changed into actual clothes, feeling a tad more like a normal human being instead of a patient. Something simple, just a shirt and my maternity yoga pants. I even ran a brush through my hair a few times, though it wasn't necessary. It was a task I could do and it was familiar, soothing. 

Okay, maybe I do understand my brothers fascination with woodcraft or whatever more than I thought I did. 

Dinner was a few slices of plump ham, at least one slice of glistening pineapple and a sticky cherry. Sides were mashed potatoes, again, green beans and baked spinach. It smelled heavenly, but it tasted amazing. Willy and I sat on the bed, in lieu of other available seating arrangements, balancing our plates on our laps. It was silent for the greater part, save for the scrape of utensils and the occasional rustle of a blanket. 

"How was your day?" I asked when the silence threatened to drive me insane. 

"Had worse days, had better, too. Cattle and horses're actin' up." He replied sourly, stabbed a pineapple with twice the force required to spear the thin fruit. 

I hummed sympathetically, curious and cautious to press. He'd tell me if he wanted me to know, if he wanted to share. 

My patience was rewarded. 

"Jimmy got struck by one'a the horses today." He informed me, not taking his eyes off his food. Guilt. He felt guilty about something. What?

My spine straightened. "Is he alright?" 

"Hershel says it ain't too serious. He has ta rest tomorrow, though, ta be sure. He's sore 'bout it, stubborn kid don't like sitting round the house. Can't say I blame him, but ain't nothin' for it." He answered between bites. 

That upset me. Willy picked up on it, but I spoke before he could. 

"You had to pick up his slack today, with mine, but you also have to do the same tomorrow. You're working harder than you were." I frowned, nibbling my lip. My temper flared, I was frustrated with myself and Jimmy as unfair as the second was. "You've been doing more than enough. I hate that you have to pick up my half of the deal to earn our keep, but now . . . It's not fair to you." 

"May not be fair, Abi, but right is right. I gave my word ta Hershel and I intend ta keep it." He glanced down at the last bit, his eyes shadowed with guilt again. 

It was eating at me, not asking, but I kept my lips sealed. 

He sighed, gathering our dirty dishes and set them to the side. He avoided looking at me, eye contact, but I knew something was weighing on him. 

"Abi. . . " He murmured, rubbing his palms along the front of his pants like he was wiping off sweat. "I need ta talk ta ya bout somethin' an' I want ya ta hear me out 'fore ya say anythin'." 

I hesitated, but I nodded. It was serious if he was this reluctant to speak. 

"The stock Hershel set aside for slaughter's running low, extra people ta feed'll do that. I've talked ta the men, an' we've decided ta take turns huntin' ta ease the burden as much as we can. Functional grocery stores'd come in handy 'bout now, but we got what we got." He confessed, shaky in the beginning, but he finished strong. He stared me in the eye, pleading with me to understand. "I've got protection, I'll never stay out past dark an' I'll always come back ta ya." 

"You can't promise me that." I whispered, heart sinking. Faces and scenery playing behind my eyes like a home movie.

"I've never broken a promise ta ya, I don't intend ta start now." He said, brown eyes warm and sincere. 

I nodded. There was nothing else I could do. My brother was, as he said, a man of his word and he'd already given it to Hershel. As much as I feared the possibility of him dying or not returning from a hunt, I loved him and his honorable nature. 

"I'm gonna see if she's out there, maybe they know better'n ta stick too close ta town." He whispered once I'd come to terms with his admission, squeezing me when I burst into thankful tears. 

That night as I lay in bed, I said extra prayers and hummed the lyrics to a song that had been part of me so long it was like reciting my name. 


	4. Who's That?

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Walking Dead, I own the story and it's plot. **

_ **Who's That?** _

I blinked, opening my eyes as I slowly roused. The sunshine was bright and the direction of the shadows told me that it had to be around noon. 

Although Hershel diagnosed me and gave me the all clear, I still hadn't regained my full energy level yet. He suggested I attempt brief laps around the room if I feel up to it, but warned me against pushing myself too hard. He worried I might fall ill, suffer a kind of relapse if that's possible, since the first bout left me weakened. Vulnerable. He informs me that this may not be the last time during my pregnancy this could occur, depending on conditions and the amount of care I take in them. 

It scared me, the uncertainty, but I forced myself to push it aside until I could do something about it. High stress was dangerous for me. I resolved to only worry about immediate threats, to lessen the risk as much as I could. 

A rhythmic knock announced the arrival of a familiar face. "Hey." 

"Hey, you." I smiled, waving him in. 

Willy closed the door behind him. I pat the space beside me, a undeniable invitation. 

"How ya feelin'?" He asked, sitting at the edge of my bed. I grinned when I saw the covered plate in his hands.

I accepted the plate and dug in, pleased to note that my appetite had improved. A definite sign of my recovery progressing. 

"I'm a bit drained still, but better. Don't wanna stay in bed longer than a few hours, four at the longest and I topped my score last night." I informed him proudly between bites. Mmmmmm. Scrambled eggs with cubes of cooked ham, bacon, half a slice of toast and a glass of orange juice. It was delicious, every morsel. The bacon may have been devoid of excess grease, but it was meaty and tasted like bacon should. 

"That's great." He praised, smiling wide. "Don't push too hard. You an' the young'n need yer rest, too." 

He rubbed a hand along my protruding stomach, his face and eyes softening. 

A door shut nearby and an unfamiliar voice passed my room. 

I raised my eyebrows and turned to my brother. There wasn't anyone new when I went to sleep last night, so when did that happen? I didn't bother asking friend or enemy, that they were in the house and Willy wasn't agitated or tense was an adequate answer. "What have I missed?" 

The question evoked a reaction. My brothers grin dropped and his eyes lost their happy shine. 

"A boy arrived this morning. Accordin' ta his daddy an' the words outta Otis' mouth, Otis accidentally shot the boy." He responded solemnly, his voice low. 

I gasped, my hands flying to my mouth. 

_That was terrible! The poor little boy!_ I couldn't imagine. I rubbed my baby bump, reassuring myself that he was okay, if nothing else. Needed it, though it wasn't my son that was _shot. _

"That poor boy. _Otis_." I whispered, tears filled my eyes. I shook my head, sympathy flooded my chest. "He must be beside himself." 

The sweet man I _knew_ was sick with guilt and shame. If the boy died. . . I didn't want to finish the thought, it was horrible and _sad._ It was also, unfortunately, a very real possibility given the current lack of professional medical care. Hershel would do everything he could to save the boy, however I'm afraid it won't be enough. 

I shoved the thoughts away, before I threw up or started bawling uncontrollably. 

"Otis volunteered ta collect the equipment Hershel needs ta save the boy." 

"Where would he get medical supplies? The hospitals were closed or raided." 

My gut sank and my heart tightened painfully. Please don't say it. Please don't day it. _Please_ don't. . .

"The high school. There was a FEMA center set up, ambulances an' doctors. Otis can grab what he needs, maybe more than he needs. It could be a gold mine."

It felt like the air had been punched out of my lungs. 

"The high school was _overrun_, you can't really think this is a good idea!" 

"It's possible it's cleared out. No one's tried, or gone near it since it fell."

"If you truly believed that, why hasn't anyone suggested it before now?" 

"it won't hurt none ta look, at least. It's been months, it's probably empty."

It was a weak hope, there was no concrete proof or Hershel would've sent Maggie there and not the pharmacy. With the life of a child in the balance, no one would want to wait--scout it out properly before waltzing in.

They'd get slaughtered out there. 

I couldn't shake this bad feeling in my gut. 

In a world where the dead eat the living, walking in blind to loot ended in death. 

* * *

Otis left for the supplies with another man. My worry was very much persistent. A hound chewing a bone. 

As horrible as it was, I was thankful that Willy wasn't with them. 

Willy visited me after they left. He stayed and read quietly with me for an hour, I appreciated the distraction. Reading helped. I'd always held the belief that books were portals that transported you wherever and whenever someone wanted to go. I learned at least one new word each time I read. 

I smiled at my baby bump. I would procure as many books as I could for my little one. I'd teach my child all that books could be. 

Puzzles would be a close second. Word puzzles, number puzzles and jigsaw puzzles. I loved them as a kid, though I slowed down over the years with school and work. I found time every once in a while, now I had all the time in the world. It's not a necessary survival item, so I haven't bothered before now, but maybe sometime soon I can convince Willy to grab a few volumes or a few boxes of jigsaw. 

I turned my focus back to the novel, storing the idea for later. 

After moments it seemed, the novel was finished and I was at a loss for what to do next. If I continued at this rate, there wouldn't be any books left in the house for me to read to distract myself. I don't mind reading books repeatedly, mainly the best written or what enthralled me the most. However, I tend to space it out a bit, so it would be fresh and new when I read it again. That tendency would keep me from going crazy in the months to come. 

If further bed rest didn't do the job first.

The front door closing, rushed steps thundering up stairs and down the hallway drew me out of my musing. Hershel's barely audible voice giving orders for preparations came immediately after. My breath left me in a rush of relief. They're back. 

It was a flurry of movement, doors opening and closing, steps approaching and receding. Then silence. 

I made it to the last third of a larger, hardback novel when I heard movement again. Mainly a door closing and footsteps. They were directed away from my bedroom, near as I could tell and soon I couldn't hear them at all. 

I turned the page, focusing my attention on my own affairs. 

I frowned when I heard a loud thump downstairs. Had someone fallen? Did Hershel . . .?

Weeping floated through the floorboards. 

I sucked in a sharp breath, understanding crashing into me. 

The door opened and my head jerked up. Willy walked in and closed the door, leaning against it with his head down. 

"Willy?" I murmured, dread dropping in my stomach like a ton of lead. I needed to hear him say the words. 

It was one life or another. A boy who hadn't had a real chance to live or a good, kind man who only wanted to fix a terrible accident he caused. Part of me didn't want to hear the answer, wanted to remain frozen in the unaware state I'd been in just fifteen minutes before. 

He lifted his head and unshed tears shone in his eyes. "He did the right thing." 

I shook my head, sobs clawing their way up my throat. 

No. Please, God, no. 

_Otis_.

"The boy made it through surgery alright." Willy murmured softly from his spot next to me. 

I curled up in bed and cried. I'd only known Otis for three weeks, but they counted to me. He was was a sweet man with a gentle soul. He treated me with kindness and respect, accepted me even though he still didn't know me that long. 

He didn't deserve to die like that. Eaten alive by those things. 

Willy pulled me to him, cradling me to his side.

He held me the rest of the night. 

We hummed a familiar lullaby that put another face in mind until we drifted to sleep. 

* * *

I opened my eyes to sunlight.

A new day. 

I closed my eyes, willing yesterday's memory away. Patricia's weeping haunted my dreams. 

Hershel was going to perform a burial ceremony with stones for Otis today. 

It was the best we could do considering we don't have his body. 

I sat on the side of the bed, gathering the will to attend another funeral. I'd witnessed more than I liked to remember, had had to assist in burying and identifying a few people I cared for, respected. Loved. 

Well, this wasn't going away and sitting here moping wouldn't help matters. Time to face the music. 

I attempted to stand, but my legs buckled. The second try wasn't any better, my body wouldn't cooperate. My energy level was at it's lower point today. 

A rapping on the door frame announced Maggie's presence. "You coming down?" 

I sighed. 

"I haven't improved. Ya see how I'm sitting?" I gestured to emphasize my position.

She nodded, curious.

"I'm supposed to be standing." I said dryly. 

She quickly smothered the tiny smile that threatened to break out on her face. Today wasn't a day to smile. 

"Daddy said don't come down, if you don't feel up to it and don't push yourself. You're sick of that bed, of this room. I understand that, but you push too hard, too fast and you'll be stuck in that bed another week, at least." The brunette responded, walking over to ease me into a lying position. "I'll tell Daddy you can't come down. Patricia will understand." 

"Thank you." I murmured, my throat tight. The last segment of her statement was what bothered me the most, she must have sensed that and appeased me accordingly. 

I wish I wasn't still recovering, that I could will my body into responding appropriately. I wish I could go to the service, to properly show my support on the second darkest day of her life. I couldn't do either, and that rankled me in a bad way. I knew she wouldn't hold it against me, she wasn't the type of person to do that, and she'd come by later to ask how I was feeling even though today was supposed to be about supporting _her_. 

_If I can't witness the burial in person, I'll just have to listen to it._ I thought, nodding my head resolutely. 

It would take a while for them to prepare. Hershel and the others have to gather the stones they will use before they can begin.

I selected a more morose book from the collection and lay back on my slightly elevated pile of pillows. 

A loud, roaring engine and two quieter purring engines drew my attention from my novel. 

_What the heck was that?_ I wondered, curiosity peaked. _No one went out for a supply run, certainly not with that roaring beast. Willy is at the house and Jimmy was outside helping gather stones for Otis' memorial site, so no one went hunting. So, who was that?_

Footsteps descended the stairs. I set the book aside, listening. The footsteps continued, to what I think may be the drawing room and the front door opened. 

Voices drifted up, but they were distorted and distant. I couldn't make out what was said. 

A few minutes later, the voices stopped and the footsteps didn't return. 

I shrugged and started reading again. If it was important enough, or concerned me, someone would fetch me or let me know. 

I had read through it and chosen another sad story to read by the time noon struck and the squeaking of the wheelbarrow tires could be heard. 

"Hey." 

I startled, nearly dropping my book. My heart galloped from my chest to my throat and stayed there for a moment, then began to slow. 

Willy closed the distance in a few strides. 

"What're you doin' in here? Yer gonna miss the funeral." I said, furrowing my eyebrows. 

Why would he be here? I cocked my head, studying him. He'd be able to support Patricia and Beth better outside, not inside. He wouldn't hear as clearly, either. 

"I know where I'm needed." He drawled in his southern accent. He drug a chair from the corner and set it beside the bed. 

"But--" 

"I can hear it from here, same as you." He cut me off, sitting in the chair. "Ya don't need ta be alone. There's a crowd down there, more'n enough support fer Patty and Beth." 

I smiled. My brother was a good guy. Always thinking of others before himself. 

"It might get boring." I warned him. I was only half joking. 

"I can handle bein' in here fer an hour or so." He replied with a snort, playfully nudging me. 

I smacked his arm back, turning the page. I felt a bit better knowing he was here. It helped, not being alone. 

I'd gotten through six more pages when a very warm hand nudged my leg. 

"It's time, Hershel's speaking." Willy informed me, standing close to the window. He'd opened it a few inches half an hour ago so we could hear better. 

I tossed my book onto the nightstand and sat up straighter, adjusting my pillows. 

"We are gathered today to celebrate the life of a fellow man. Otis Hews. A husband, a friend, a neighbor." Hershel's voice drifted in the open window, a small bit muffled, but still audible. 

I fidgeted with my fingers after a while, shifting and re-positioning at least half a dozen to a dozen times. 

The niggling thought that I should _be out there_ was becoming unbearable. The uncomfortable familiarity of last goodbyes at once unwanted and unavoidable. Flashes and feelings creeping 

I felt the monumental urge to move, to do _something_, so I pushed off the bed and resolved to try to take at least one lap around the bedroom to ease my restlessness. Maggie warned me against pushing myself, but I'm about to go stir crazy if I don't do something besides lay down or sit up. Bed rest was incredibly boring and me feel like I was lazing around, which I didn't enjoy. 

I stepped slowly and carefully, testing my legs. I took two more, nice and easy, and was pleased when I didn't fall on my face, so I sped the pace up a little. I hadn't finished my lap, when I hit the bedside table with my hip. My hand eye coordination has never been the best, so it was no surprise that I failed to catch the book before it fell to the floor with a soft thump. 

I sighed, bending down to pick it up. 

I grunted softly. Bad idea. Too fast. The room tilted and swayed. My body pitched slightly to the side, my hands flying out to catch me. 

"Abilene?" Willy questioned, moving away from the window. "Are ya okay?" 

I don't recall answering--my voice lost somewhere in my throat. Drowned in the weakened feeling, vision swirling and the floor swiftly moving up to meet me. 

* * *

**Daryl**

The old guy, Horace? Herman? Whatever. The old guy was finishin' the service fer that guy they lost. The stones had been stacked an' mushy, emotional shit said bout 'im. 

Movement in the corner of my eye had me turnin' toward the house. 

A man burst through the door, barrelin' down the steps toward the group. He was tall, tan, an' no one I'd seen since we got here. 

"Hershel!" He panted when he'd come within a few feet'a us. He stopped directly in front'a the old man, chest heavin', a panicked look in his eyes. "Ya need ta come, quickly." 

'Hershel's' posture changed instantly. I didn't like the look he got in his eyes. Seen that look too many times when things got bad, 'specially with this group. 

Lori must've picked up on it as well. "Is it Carl?" 

"No." He responded, handin' the bible ta the older gal and rolled up his sleeves. He started ta walk away at a quick pace. "Maggie, Beth, I'm going to need your hands."

The brunette an' younger blonde followed, joggin' ta keep up. 

The stranger immediately ran after 'em.

"The fuck's that 'bout?" I grit out, pointing ta the house. 

Lori shifted in place a few seconds an' then she streaked across the lawn like a bat outta hell. 

I shook my head. "Done lost their damn minds."

* * *

**Willy**

I ran ta Abilene as she collapsed, my heart stoppin' fer a beat then restartin' when I felt her chest movin'. She was breathin'. 

I looked her over helplessly, heart hammerin' in my chest.

I didn't know what to check for, what to do to help her. I couldn't see blood and she was breathin', but that's all I knew. I brushed her hair back from her face, kissin her forehead before hoppin' up an' runnin' fer the stairs. 

We need Hershel. 

I ignored the strangers standin' 'round Otis' memorial with Pat an' the Greene's, headin' straight fer Hershel. 

"Hershel!" I panted, stoppin' in front of the vet an' takin' a moment ta catch my breath. "Ya need ta come, quickly." 

I didn't care 'bout the conversation happenin' as I followed Hershel back ta the house, anxious ta get back ta Abi. None'a it mattered, if she wasn't okay. That's all I wanted ta know. 

Maggie pressed on my chest when I tried ta follow Hershel inside the room. "Ya should stay outside, give us room to work. We'll take care of her." 

"I need ta go in! What if she's--?" I choked on the words, unable ta say it. What if she slipped away? What if she miscarried? 

I couldn't stand it. A life without Abi. What would I do? She's all I have left. Missy's gone an' as much as it hurts ta think, she could be dead. Abi's here, but so many things've been goin' wrong.

I don' know what ta do. 

"Daddy will do everythin' he can. He needs space and quiet to think, if you go in there you'll distract him and she won't get the care she needs. The best thing you can do for her is wait here." She insisted, not unkindly. 

I clenched my jaw, nodding reluctantly. 

She squeezed my shoulder and slipped through the door to Abi's bedroom. 

I turned ta begin pacing when I noticed a rail thin brunette lady from the funeral standing in the hallway a few feet away. 

"The hall ya doin' up here?! This ain't no show!" I snarled, angry at her for disrespectin' Abi's privacy and for bein' nosy in general. "This ain't yer business."

She blinked, expression and body frozen. 

"Go'n, git!" I shooed, the hand I waved jerky and probably seemingly aggressive toward her. I honestly didn't give a shit if she thought I was, she was trespassin' and snoopin'. Two things I don't stand behind. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude." She said softly, backing away. 

I watched her until she was gone, then paced a hold in the floor, waiting. 

* * *

_ **Abilene** _

I blinked my heavy eyes open, the white ceiling of my bedroom coming slowly into focus. 

What? I bent over to grab my book, how did I end up on my back? 

The door opened and Hershel stepped through. 

"Hershel?" I murmured, confused. If he was here, he had the answers to my questions. It also meant it was medical, so I held judgement on whether this visit was a good thing or a bad thing. 

The vet immediately closed the distance to the bed, Maggie and Beth entering the room soon after. 

"Beth, grab a cool rag and a glass of water. Maggie, get me the pressure cuff and stethoscope." He ordered, gently clasping my hand in his and feeling for a pulse. 

Maggie brought in the stethoscope and pressure cuff. He took my blood pressure, his face betraying his worry. He quickly discarded the pressure cuff and grabbed the stethoscope. He pressed the metal circle against my chest and closed his eyes to listen, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. He slid the stethoscope down, pressing gently on my bump. His furrow and frown were gone, which soothed my anxiety on that front. Whatever happened, it hadn't affected or hurt my baby directly. 

Hershel sighed and nodded his head, finished. "Your heart and lungs sound good, no signs of trouble breathing. The baby's heartbeat is fast and strong, as it should be." 

Beth returned with a small glass of ice water and a wet rag. 

He accepted both from his youngest child. He helped me tilt my head up for a drink and smoothed the rag over my face. 

I sighed. It felt heavenly. 

"What happened?" I didn't want the vet to keep things from me, even if Willy encouraged it for my health or whatever. Something happened for him to be here now, performing and impromptu check-up. We had our regular visits, where he told me all he could about how the baby was doing, and he'd already done the check-up for this week. 

"Your blood pressure is concerning, as is your collapse. I have Willy's account on that matter, already. What can you tell me about what happened?" He asked, handing the warmed rag and glass to Beth. She set the glass nearby, but left with the rag. 

"I had a headache that started some time this morning. It was nothing major at first, easily ignored, but it had gotten noticeably worse around when the funeral started. I had a desire to move around a bit, so I started walking laps around the bedroom. I was careful not to walk too far or fast, but kept a decent distance from the bed, to avoid accidentally fallin into it. At some point, I knocked the book off my bedside table and bent to pick it up purely out of habit, but when I did the headache increased dramatically. That's all I remember." I finished my recounting, picking at a loose string in the worn quilt on my lap. 

"You're still recovering from your illness, with your condition it'll mean a longer road until you're fit to move around like you used to. I believe your collapse may be a one time occurrence, you pushed too hard and too soon, but to be sure I would like you to avoid similar situations in the near future. For now." Hershel said, patting my hand and standing to leave. 

"Thank you, Hershel." I whispered, out of habit, while I processed that my bed rest had indeed been extended. 

* * *

**_Dale_ **

Lori came out of the house soon after she hurried inside. Her eyes were wide and her walk slow, like she couldn't see what was ahead. 

Shock. 

Whatever had happened in that house shocked her. 

Rick grew concerned, approaching his wife and taking her by the shoulders. "What is it? Did something happen to Carl?" 

"It wasn't Carl." She murmured, her voice breathy. 

"What?" T-Dog asked what we were all thinking, looking at Lori closely. "What are you talking about?"

"It was someone else. It wasn't Carl." She repeated, balking at the awareness that he was staring at her like she'd just declared the sky was pink and the grass we stood on was edible. She turned on her heel and walked to the tent she shared with Rick. 

Rick sighed, rubbing his face and following her, but not before shooting T-Dog a look. 

T had the grace to grimace apologetically. 

Something happened in that house, that I was sure of. If it wasn't Carl, though, who was it? Everyone Hershel introduced to was present at the funeral, except the man who interrupted it. There were two strangers, at least, on the farm. 

Shane wouldn't like this development, I knew that like I knew my name. He'd become more unstable, though so far Rick refused to acknowledge it. I didn't fault the man too much, he was a good man and he'll make the right decision when it counts. Not much about the world was familiar, he was holding tightly to what he could of what he'd known from before. We all did the same, in our own ways. 

Rick would come through, I truly believe that. 


	5. First Impressions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited 5/31/2020

**Disclaimer: I still do not own the Walking Dead, probably never will. **

Willy swung by yesterday after Hershel left and told me about the strange lady spying on us. 

Who was she? Why was she on the farm? Why did she come upstairs? Didn't she know it was considered rude to spy or eavesdrop on others' private moments? 

My bed rest was extended, for another day at least. I made a face at the thought. I didn't want to be stuck up here for another week or worse, even longer. Hershel wanted me to rest as much as possible to recharge my batteries, so to speak. I felt better, but that didn't necessarily mean I _was_ better. Not completely, anyway. 

I spent the rest of the afternoon in bed, as ordered, reading or talking to Willy when he visited on his breaks. 

I was pretty much doing the same thing today, actually. I didn't have anything better to do. 

"Knock, knock." A very familiar southern voice twanged from my doorway. 

Thank, God! I was getting bored and it was barely past nine. 

"Come in, dork." I called, laughing at his antics. 

"Yer feelin' better, that's awesome." He grinned, crossing the room in a few quick strides and leaning down to kiss my forehead. 

"I have a better energy level today." I informed him happily, smiling. 

"That's great." He smiled softly. He paused, shifting on his feet subtly. The fingers of his left hand twitched. 

I narrowed my eyes suspiciously at the reveal of his nervous tell. Something was up. 

"I was thinkin' that since yer feelin' better that I could do some errands." He began, eyeing my reaction carefully. "I know we're runnin' low on a lot'a things, an'---"

Realization dawned and with it, fear. 

"You're going on a run." I whispered. I didn't have to ask, I knew him well. I already knew his answer. 

He grimaced, expression guilty. "Yeah."

My good mood came crashing down around my ears. "Is anyone going with you?" 

I always went with him, before, after we were separated from our groups and no one else could. He hasn't let me since we've arrived here, though, since there are other willing bodies to tag along. Maggie was the common choice, because of her own frequent runs into town for medicine and supplies for Hershel. 

He nodded. 

I sagged slightly in mild relief. One less thing to worry about, at least. 

"Maggie volunteered. She'll grab what Hershel needs an' I'll get the general supplies." He hesitates here, my intuition tingling. I wasn't going to like this one bit. "We were thinkin' of headin' out soon an' goin' out further---maybe ta an actual hospital. Probably make it an overnight run, though."

He rushed out the last sentence, watching me. 

"Are you crazy?!" I growled at him, positively _fuming_. "The hospitals were overrun early on because the morgues housed those things, were breeding grounds---ground zero, whatever you prefer to call it! An' you wanna just waltz in, pretty as you please, and take what we need. This is _by far_ one of your worst ideas, Willy Pickens, and I will _not_ support this!"

Two of them against a hospital full of the dead? And who knows how many between point A and point B? The parking lot, each room and corner. No amount of guns and knives in the world seemed like enough protection to even risk it, let alone attempt it. 

Why did he have to be the one to risk himself like this? It was horrible and selfish, but in this moment I wished Otis were alive solely to replace Willy on this run. 

"I know how ya feel 'bout these kind'a runs, Abi, but we _need_ those supplies. The pharmacy doesn't have what we need an' with how often Maggie picks through it, soon enough there won't be anythin' left. I have back up, we're takin' the truck so we have a better chance an' we'll take guns with us. We'll be super careful, I promise." He murmured in his gentle, soothing voice, pinning me with sincere eyes. 

There it was. The promise. He's serious about going on this run and wanted my support. 

I'm not sure I can give it to him. 

I don't want him to go. It's dangerous, _beyond_ dangerous. The last time someone I knew went on a run, they didn't come back. That was a place with less bodies than a hospital would have, that run had a two person crew as well. Two grown men who shot guns, but only one returned. Everything in me was scared and pleading with him to stay, to send someone else. I was terrified of history repeating. 

"Why does it have to be you? Why not Maggie and Jimmy?" I asked, trying valiantly to keep from crying. He hates it when I cry. 

He sighed. "They've done their share of runs. It's my turn an' I have some things I need ta get." 

I looked away. I couldn't stand it anymore, I cried. 

"Hey, now." Willy said softly, the bed dipped as he scoot closer. "It'll be alright, you see."

"I can't lose you." I whimpered, my voice breaking. 

"I promise I will come back safe, as soon as we get what we need." He vowed, hugging me against his warm frame.

Another promise. 

We always took promises seriously in our family. Don't make a promise unless you meant it, wholeheartedly. 

"Please be careful." I pleaded, clutching handfuls of his shirt in both fists until they hurt. "_Please_."

"Always." He assured me, rubbing soothing circles in my back.

I relaxed my hold, only enough I felt circulation return. Silent tears ran tracks down my cheeks. 

He held me until I'd calmed down. I'm not sure how long it took, but I finally drew back and wiped my face dry.

"I'm thinking of trying ta get an ultrasound machine, if I can." He said, finally ending the silence.

"Don't, if it will put you at risk. It's not worth your life, Willy." I had resigned myself to the fact that he was leaving shortly. I couldn't do or say anything to make him stay and I knew that. 

It didn't make it any easier. Especially with him talking like that. 

"I won't. I've made it my mission ta stay alive 'til that baby's born."

"He'll make you wait as long as possible then, and so will I."

Willy visited for another hour, then left to pack and coordinate further with Maggie. They planned to leave after lunch. He wanted to get on the road as soon as possible, to reduce the risk of running into herds at night. Our travels revealed their more active at night. 

It also increased the chances of them returning sooner. 

Lunch was a silent affair, only the clinks of forks against plates could be heard in the room. 

I tried to keep my spirits up, for his sake, but a run like this. . .terrifies me. 

Smiles were strained and forced across tables and over glasses of water. 

When the last person finished eating, a sharp flare of panic seized my chest. I swallowed thickly, my hands shaking as I stood to help clear the table. 

We gathered in the living room, supplies and spare weapons already packed securely in the truck. Handshakes for the men, from the men. Hugs for family, from family. Gratitude from Hershel and myself for the back up the other provided for our loved one. 

Willy hugged me tightly, sang to me under his breath, to try to ease some of my fear and make me giggle. Crazy Girl by the Zac Brown band.

I smiled, even though it didn't erase my fear, it helped a little.

Beth was close enough to hear, she smiled sweetly, but left us to our moment. 

I watched them enter the truck and drive down the dirt path the Greene's had as a driveway. 

I began to fuss and worry the moment I could no longer see the tail lights of the truck. 

_Please bring them back safe_. I prayed, closing my eyes and leaning against the window. _Let their path be clear and void of all danger_.

I tried to rest, but every time I closed my eyes, images of Willy being bit distressed me too much. I felt restless, helpless, and I hated it. 

Dinner was quieter than lunch, no less strained. The occupants were absorbed in their private cocoons of worry. The atmosphere more somber, more serious. 

I excused myself as early as socially polite, unable to stand another minute of it.

I read and paced, hummed all the songs that came to mind and fretted over the safety of the two scavengers.

Logically, I knew they were experienced and cautious. Emotionally, I was a worried wreck that had various scenarios of horror and death playing out in my mind.

Willy running for the truck, surrounded by a herd of walkers. Maggie and Willy caught in a hallway, surrounded on both sides, shooting until their last bullet before getting eaten. Maggie running to the truck and falling, losing her gun, a walker ripping her stomach open and eating her alive.

I shook my head and whimpered. _No! Stop it_! I yelled at myself.

I curled up as well as I could, rocking myself back and forth. I hugged myself and hummed songs my ma would sing to me after I had nightmares.

_They're gonna be fine! They'll come back. He promised_. I thought fiercely, forcing away the negative images. _He_ promised. 

Slowly, combined efforts worked, chasing away the images and thoughts plaguing me.

My hope that they would return tonight was in vain. Between my laps earlier in the evening, I checked the window and each time they still weren't back. 

Finally, when I was too exhausted to keep my eyes open, I lay down and slept. 

* * *

I sighed, picking at my breakfast. The toast and oatmeal Beth had brought up for me didn't appeal to me. I'd eaten five bites of the toast and nine bites of oatmeal. That was the best I could do at the moment.

I blinked my tired eyes and glanced over at the young blonde.

"Take it, I can't eat another bite." I requested softly, pushing the tray away.

I had stood with the intention of dressing and starting my chores by the time she came for the tray. 

Hershel cleared me this morning. I should feel happy, I'd been waiting for this since I woke after falling ill. I didn't feel anything, but tired and emotionally drained. 

My sleep was broken and as restless as my waking hours. 

"You should try to eat more a little later. I'll bring snacks out for you in a bit." She said, closing the door behind her.

I changed into my faded blue sundress with small white flowers printed on it. The weather looked like it would be on the hotter side today, so I would need to take extra breaks and drink more ice water than usual or Hershel wouldn't allow me to leave the house. The protective old vet.

I eased my way down the stairs to the kitchen.

"Three bottles of ice water all ready to go. They're on the middle shelf, next to the milk." Patricia offered in way of greeting. "Here, take this one out with you. Come in for refills as often as you need."

I blinked, surprised. "Thank you."

"Be careful out there. If you get too hot, if the water doesn't do the trick, come in and we'll ice your wrists." She replied with a small smile. Her eyes were puffy and tired, circles forming under them. She looked older today, like she'd aged at least six years over night.

Sympathy flooded me. The service for Otis was yesterday. 

I recognize her offer as a need to stay busy, I wouldn't fault her for it. Everyone processes and grieves in their own way. 

"I will." I tried to smile back, but I wasn't sure if it fell flat or not.

I escaped the dreary mood of the kitchen and made for the front door eagerly. It had been a week since anyone collected from the hen house so I'd start with that. It wouldn't be taxing and I couldn't overdo it walking down a line of chickens taking their eggs.

The wire collecting basket and feeding pail were beside the door. Apparently Hershel wanted to be sure I start simple. Low level on the hard scale. 

This was his unspoken condition and I accept. 

I made it down the front steps before I spotted the R. V and a splattering of tents. 

I blinked, confused. What the hell?

"Who the hell are you?!" A hard voice demanded, an edge to the southern accent. 

I jumped, startled at the sudden shout that broke the peaceful quiet I had been soaking in. I spun to face the owner of the voice. He was tall, his head had been shaved and he wore overalls. His eyes were cold and hostile, as was his stance.

I trembled. The hostility of the stranger made me freeze. My feet felt heavy, like they were weighed down by concrete blocks. 

Flashed of another's eyes stole across my vision, equally filled with anger and hate. Face twisted in a snarl, teeth bared and sharp. 

"I asked you a question! _Who are you_?!" He demanded again, the volume of his voice increased. 

The words were caught in my throat, lodged beside my rapidly beating heart. 

"Shane! Leave her be!" Another voice sternly snapped. "You're scaring her."

The man with the shaved head didn't move, glaring at me with a look I'd know like I knew my name. The eyes and face were different, but the glare was exactly the same. 

A glare that screamed violence. Hatred. Rage.

It promised suffering. 

I dropped the wire basket to wrap an arm over my bump protectively, shielding it as best I could. I wanted to run, to flee, but I couldn't be certain that he wouldn't tackle me to the ground and hurt my baby. I couldn't take the chance.

I didn't know what to do.

Instinct demanded that I cower, submit. It also prompted me to fight, protect us both. Stay alive. 

A man with short slightly wavy hair and the beginning of a beard closed the distance, his strides indicated he was annoyed. He pushed the one he'd called Shane, forcing him to take a step away from me. "Back off, Shane. I won't tell you again."

'Shane' backed away, tossing the other man's hands away from him and stalking off to the tents.

I exhaled once, releasing the breath I hadn't realized I'd held, even temporarily. 

The bearded man turned his attention to me, the tension leaving his shoulders. He looked at me head on and I noticed that his eyes were different. Softer. _Kinder_. "I'm sorry about that. The living we've encountered so far haven't been exactly friendly. Are you alright?"

I shrugged, my eyes darting around him to the small crowd gathering among the tents.

"My name is Rick Grimes, I'm here with my group while Hershel fixes up my boy. What's your name?" He inquired, his voice quieter and kinder now.

"Abilene." I whispered, my trembling had stopped, but I still wanted to bolt. I didn't know this man and I didn't like that the people around the tents were staring at me.

"Abilene. That's a pretty name." He leaned forward a bit and bent down a little.

I flinched and took two automatic steps back when his arm came close to touching my leg.

He straightened up, his hands held out in front of him like I'd seen in the movies. "Hey, it's okay. I'm not gonna hurt you. Okay? I don't wanna hurt you."

I watched him warily, hastily reaching forward and grabbing the basket from him while keeping my eyes on him.

"My group don't want any trouble. Why don't you meet them? It might make you feel better." He suggested, his hands still raised, placating. He was talking softly and calmly, like I'd seen Willy talk to a spooked horse.

I tensed up, eyes wide. He wanted me to go over there?! There were so many of them! _He_ was over there!

My trembling started up again and I started to inch backward, watching Rick Grimes for any movement.

"What's goin' on out here?" A familiar and very welcome voice demanded.

I exhaled in relief, my muscles relaxing. Hershel.

"One of my men scared Abilene. I was trying to talk her down." Rick explained, his voice as calm and soft as before.

I took the opportunity to hide behind Hershel.

"Abilene, sweetheart, go in the house. Beth will take your morning chores." Hershel instructed me in his fatherly voice.

I fled into the house, dropping the feed pail and bucket on the porch for Beth. I walked as quickly as I was able into the kitchen and grabbed a thermos of ice water.

My body felt flushed, but that had little to do with the heat and everything to do with raised blood pressure. 

Patricia turned to me, frowning in concern. "What happened?"

"I didn't realize how hot it was gonna be today, needed a break." I lied, unwilling to relive the incident with Shane and Rick. 

Her frown deepened. 

"Where's Beth?" I asked, a safer subject doubling as a distraction. 

"I think she went to feed the cows in the second paddock. Why?"

"Hershel wants her to take over my morning chores. Can you tell Beth for me?"

"Sure, but-"

"Thanks. I'm going to lay down for a little bit."

I didn't wait for a reply, fleeing to my room. I sat on the bed and took soothing breaths.

I wasn't sure what was going on with Hershel and Rick, or what the problem with that Shane guy was, but I did know one thing.

I wanted nothing to do with Rick or his group. 


	6. Time Will Tell

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything, but my imagination. If I owned the series, certain things would be different. **

Hershel came to me half an hour after I fled the scene on the lawn. 

"Are you alright?" He asked kindly.

I nodded, I really was okay even after all that stress and fear.

"Everything is settled with Rick's group." He informed me, giving me a smile. "You can resume chores whenever you're ready."

"Thank you, Hershel." I murmured, the last sentence echoing in my head.

He pat my hand and left the room. I was left alone to sort my thoughts and feelings.

I didn't like Shane. I definitely didn't trust him. I had done nothing to deserve his treatment of me. He was quick to anger and violence, too quick for my comfort. Memories of a past life were rising to the surface, trying to drag me down, override the present. I forced them back into the box I buried them in, enforcing the chains that held it shut tight.

A part of me was afraid that history would repeat itself, that if I went back outside to finish my chores _he_ would attempt to finish what _he_ had begun.

Rick couldn't pay attention to him every second of the day. I would be alone-vulnerable. One day, one minute, that's all it would take for things to escalate out of control. All it took for Shane to become too violent and kill me by accident or on purpose. 

On the other hand, I couldn't hide in the house and the chores helped distract me from Willy. . . .

I debated with myself, weighing the pros and cons of each decision. If I chanced it, Jimmy and Rick would be on my side, at least. I didn't know enough about the others to assume anything. Shane would be within sight, true, but I could be seen from the house. 

I decided to finish my chores, head held high. Beth, Maggie and Patricia had done them enough for me already. If Shane tried anything, I'd scream for Jimmy or Rick. Jimmy, I trusted more of the two, but I wouldn't be picky on who came to my rescue.

I nodded determinedly, descending the stairs at a safe speed.

I was made of tougher stuff than this. I wouldn't let one man cow me so easily, so quickly, when he wasn't even in the same area as me. 

Patricia wasn't in the kitchen and I couldn't see Hershel. I took the opportunity to pack a few wrapped sandwiches and a thermos of ice water in my lunch box. It was easier to bring with me, rather than make the trips to the house each time I got hungry or thirsty. The only trips I made now, were ones to the restroom, and unfortunately they were too often for my liking. That, I couldn't control, this I could. I finished by packing in a few ice packs to help keep everything cool and headed for the front door. 

I paused once I picked up the feeding pail and collection basket, checking that the people from the gathering of tents had remained at their campsite. A small group had convened around a pick up truck, the rest were scattered among the tents and R. V. 

I sighed, relieved, and walked to the chicken coop. I stole glances as I went, to keep track of them in case they wandered closer. 

I made it to the coop without incident. 

I noticed that there were less hens than I remembered from my last trip out here. However, we'd had chicken for dinner a few nights while I'd been confined to my bed. I smiled when I noted that there were more chicks than the last time I'd seen the coop. 

I loved the fuzzy little things! 

They're fluffy, their fuzz was bright yellow--a happy color, they were soft if you were lucky enough to touch one and they were so small. Bustling and tripping over equally tiny legs. 

Before the world went to the dead, Willy and I were going to buy a farm. It wasn't a functioning farm, as this one was, mainly a lot of land and a pretty farmhouse I absolutely adored the moment I saw it. The previous owners couldn't keep up, sold animals and equipment, then finally decided to sell the house and land itself. We were planning to get her running again, if possible, or convert it to something else profitable. All that fertile soil being wasted would be such a shame. 

We didn't have a chance to close the sale. . . . 

I shook the somber thoughts away. It wouldn't do any good to think of what could have been. The land was most likely overrun with the dead, same as everywhere else. I dispersed the last of the feed and laughed when one of the younger chicks tripped over two of its eating brothers in its eagerness to reach the food. It was just the thing i needed to raise my spirits. 

"Easy there, little fella. There's enough for all of you, I promise." I whispered, setting down the empty pail to watch them a few more minutes. 

Time was flying here, in the one place I've felt truly safe in a while. In roughly four months. I'm going to see my baby. Hold them in my hands, feel their soft skin and smell their hair. Part of me couldn't wait, another part of me was terrified. He would be born in a world of walkers and dangerous trips for supplies. He could be bitten or eaten at any time, any of us could. Not all of the living left behind were good people, they could hurt him as well. Strangers are even more dangerous than before, there are no police broadcasts to warn others of their deeds and flash their faces, so you know to avoid them. If you ever meet on the road. . . . 

I shivered. 

You were essentially walking into every encounter blind. Your ability to read people and think on your feet would be your most valuable skills, your greatest assets. If you had neither, you're as good as dead. 

_No. Willy will protect us. He always has. So would Hershel and his family, if it came down to it. They're decent folks._

i slapped myself mentally and entered the coop. 

The familiar motion of walking down the line and collecting eggs soothed me. It was weird, but whatever works right? I didn't do bad today, just one egg over a dozen. I dutifully filled out the clipboard and signed, humming a tune I'd gotten stuck in my head somehow.

_Hush a bye, don't you cry_ / _Go to sleep you little baby_

_When you wake, you shall have all the pretty little ponies_

I never could remember what verse comes next. I think it was a few lines of species of horses. Or something. Eh. What I remembered was enough to improvise when the time comes. I would sing the parts of lullabies and nurseries rhymes that I could remember and make up the rest. It couldn't be too hard to make up child appropriate verses for a song, people did it all the time before the world ended. If you think about it, before there were professional song writers there were mothers. So, therefore, I couldn't be the only person or mother in history to wing a lullaby or two.

"Hello there." A young, awkward voice murmured.

I jumped, turning on the spot. It was a stranger I'd seen with _his_ group.

"Shane said that you can come back and meet the rest of the group." He stuttered, gesturing behind him.

I tensed. That was his name, the one who'd been so hostile. Fear pumped through my veins, I didn't want anything to do with the Chinese man, he knew Shane. He was following his orders, I couldn't trust him. He must have read my face and started forward a few steps.

"Whoa, hey. Its okay-" He rushed out, a few more steps closing the distance between us.

_Whoa, buddy, that's close enough_! I thought, my free hand plunging into the basket. I'd taken an egg out and jammed it on his head before he had time to blink.

"Ah!" He jolted, retreating a few steps and blinked rapidly. He froze, seeing that I had another egg ready to launch in my hand. "Okay, message received. Sorry. Backing off."

He had backed off as he said he would, hands up. Strips of yolk and egg white dripped slowly down his face. Some cracked egg shell pieces were still stuck to his jet black hair.

I couldn't help it. I laughed. He looked ridiculous.

"Well, I'm glad you think this is hilarious." He muttered, wiping some egg whites from around his eyes. "I'm Glenn, by the way. Do you want to tell me yours? It's okay if you don't, but I thought I'd ask-you know, in case you did."

It was kind of adorable that he stuttered and ranted. I bit my lip, thinking about whether I wanted to answer.

He knew Shane, but he didn't have the others mans temperament. He was willing to listen, step back, be patient. Maybe he wasn't like Shane.

"My name is Abilene." I whispered, unsure of my decision.

"Abilene." He repeated, smiling in an awkward boyish way. "That's a pretty name."

"Thanks. So, Glenn, huh?" I inquired, curious.

"Yeah." He paused, seeming to think about something. "If you don't want to meet the group, that's cool. If you change your mind, at any time, let me know and I'll introduce you. Take care of yourself, Abilene."

"You too, Glenn." I murmured, turning to take the remaining eggs inside.

He seemed like a nice kid. I felt a little bad for cracking an egg on his head now, but only a little. Maybe not everyone in the group is like Shane. Maybe I was wrong about Rick Grimes.

Maybe. . . Just maybe. . . . I could be friends with Glenn and Rick.

Time will tell.

* * *

I thought more on my encounter with Glenn and whether or not it was a good idea to meet the rest of the group while I worked on the garden. Glenn was sweet, Rick seemed nice enough, but it was Shane and the others I wasn't sure about.

I observed them a bit while I pulled weeds and worked the soil. Two groups of pairs had disappeared, Rick and Shane among them. The rest lingered around the campsite doing chores.

An older man with a slight beard had a kind, grandfatherly way about him. He mostly stayed around the RV, but he also walked and talked with everyone in the group. Not one ill look was aimed at anyone.

The tall brunette Willy told me about was in the group. She divided her time between the campsite and the house. I guess she is the shot boys mother or some other relative. I was tempted to ask what she was thinking just standing around staring in such a vulnerable time. It would've been different if she wasn't a stranger or if she'd tried to help Hershel, but she didn't.

I wasn't certain if I liked her.

A woman with hair cut closer to her head was more interesting, and heartbreaking, to watch. Something niggled at me each time I glanced at her, some instinctive intuition that told me she was hurting the most of the group.

A blonde woman paced on top of the RV or helped do chores.

I often caught them glancing or sometimes openly staring at me. I knew it was because I was pregnant and I got a little self conscious about how big I would get in the coming months. I wasn't comfortable with them gawking at me like that.

Other than the brunette and Shane, the group looked alright.

Maybe. . .I could introduce myself and see how it went. I'd wait until Rick was back so I only had to do this once.

I had finished weeding, pruning, watering and working the soil and still the two pairs had not returned to the farm. It made me nervous.

Did they go on a run? I thought back and remembered them on foot, no packs with them. They carried guns, but knives as well, and cloth. They had also entered the woods. What could be in there that they'd want? Well, besides deer or rabbit. Maybe they went hunting and decided that pairs was safer because of the Walkers. It was actually a good idea, someone to watch your back while you stalked prey so you didn't become the prey.

I pat myself on the back, proud of my clear memory and deduction skills. Lately, I had less of a clear memory with my pregnancy brain, as I called it.

It was beyond irritating.

I pulled off my gardening gloves and double checked that I'd done all the tasks I'd needed to. Yep. I gathered the tools and put them in the wicker basket since nothing was ready for harvest just yet.

A flurry of activity drew my attention to the other people on the farm.

_What on Earth?_ I frowned, walking a few feet toward the camp site, but not too close. The entirety of the group left behind ran for the wooded area, one or two shouted something I couldn't understand.

I understood why they ran toward the edge of the woods when four figures emerged from the shade. The pairs had returned.

As far as I could tell they were empty handed. So, bad hunters?

Rick had returned. That meant that I had to honor my agreement with myself and go introduce myself to the group. Rick was there, which meant that Shane was also. Maybe Shane wouldn't attempt any hostile behavior with the other man present? I could only hope. I took a breath and walked slowly toward the camp.

Glenn's group had begun to make their way back to their camp and were talking among each other. Mainly the two pairs.

I paused, three feet away from their camp and let them reconnect with their people. I remembered the feeling; the relief that came with safe return, the anxiousness to hear reports on what was found or seen or heard while out there.

"Who's that?" A voice I didn't recognize asked from near by.

Apparently, I was noticed.

"Uh-" I stumbled over the words, taken off guard by the question. This wasn't going as I'd planned.

The familiar rumble of a pick up truck caressed my ear drums and put a huge, relieved smile on my face. Maggie and Willy. I twirled and walked as quickly as possible to the end of the driveway. The beat up pick up I'd known and loved since childhood was a welcome sight as it tore up the road. The large white loader truck that followed, however, was unfamiliar to me.

I waited impatiently while both vehicles came to a stop, then walked quickly to the pick up truck. I frowned when I reached the passengers door and didn't see Willy in the drivers seat. _What_?

The drivers doors opened and I backed away a few steps to glance between vehicles. I ignored the footsteps and voices behind me, all that mattered was the tall frame that exited the white loader truck. _Willy_.

Willy grinned at me as he walked forward, his face and clothes filthy but neither of us cared. As soon as he was within reach I was in his arms, my fists clenched in his dirty shirt and his face buried in my hair. He stunk, but underneath was a faint hint of his familiar smell, so I didn't mind. "God, I missed ya. How's little man?"

"He's great. We both are, even better now that you're home." I whispered back, happy tears trailing my cheeks.

"Here's some water. Wash your hands before you completely ruin her dress." Maggie interrupted, holding a bucket of water and a bar of soap.

We pulled apart and laughed, we had forgotten that he had dirty hands.

Willy obliged, washing his hands as quickly as he could with the bucket and soap provided. Once his hands were clean, he knelt in front of me and cradled my baby bump in his large warm hands. He rubbed his hands over it and kissed it twice before standing again and grinning at me.

"You've said hello to the little man, now you should start unloading." I told him in a voice that supposed to be firm, but relief and happy tears ruined the effect.

"Yes, ma'am." He replied cheekily, kissing my forehead and turning to do as I requested.

Maggie had already pulled the sliding door open and unloaded three boxes onto the ground. From what I could see, two had non perishable foods and one had extra blankets.

Excellent.

I walked to the pick up to see if there were lighter things that I could carry, make myself useful. It was strange for me to not be on runs with him anymore, but I understood. I was slowly getting used to the light schedule Hershel and Patricia made up for me. I hated that there were some things I couldn't do and the others could, but it was out of my hands.

I spotted a small bag in the middle of the seat. It didn't look like it had much in it, so weight shouldn't be a problem. I opened the passenger door and leaned in, maneuvering my belly carefully to avoid injury and dragging the correctly guessed light bag toward me.

"What do you think you're doing?" A hostile and familiar voice demanded.

I froze, tension flooding me. Shane.

I was spun roughly and I immediately grasped my bump protectively, the bag forgotten as I came face to face with the hostile man glaring down at me. I trembled, attempting to back away. "I-"

"That doesn't belong to you." He hissed, dark eyes darker than anything I've seen in quite a while.

I couldn't speak, even though my brain screamed at me to tell him that I was allowed access to any part of that truck at any time. That my brother considered it mine as well as his.

It turns out, I didn't need to.

Shane was yanked away from me, slammed hard into the hood and a gun jammed under his chin. Willy stood over him, body tense, face cooler than a glacier and eyes burning hotter than a thousand coals in his fury. "Ya don't have the right ta touch her. Ya don't have the right ta breathe the same air she does. Ya don't have the right ta tell her she did anythin' wrong, 'specially when she didn't. What's hers is mine an' what's mine is hers, includin' this truck an' whatever's in it. Now I don't care who the hell ya think ya are, ya touch her again, an' I'll kill ya."

I watched, grateful and a tad nervous that he would shoot the asshole right then.

Willy released Shane, practically hurtling him away from him, and the man had to hurry to brace himself for impact. He ended up rolling a few times before he could push himself up. He dusted himself off and stormed past the members of his group that stood a few feet away, having watched the exchange with varying expressions.

My brother waited until Shane was completely out of sight before he put away his gun and strode to me, checking me over for injuries.

I patiently allowed it for a moment, then grasped his hands to still them and stared him directly in the eyes. "We're fine."

He nodded and the tension left his body. A smile took the place of his hard expression and he kissed my forehead. "I have a few things for ya both. Wait here, no peekin'."

I rolled my eyes and dutifully remained where I was, excited about what he'd found on his run. He tried to find things that were special once in a while, to make this life a little easier. Something funny, something sweet, something unusual or just plain familiar. I appreciated anything he brought back, even if it was a small item like a hair tie or new shoelaces.

He walked around the white loading truck with his hands behind his back and a skip in his step. The excited and eager gleam he had in his eyes only escalated my own excitement. He only did this with the good stuff.

I waited very impatiently, with how slow he was going he may as well have been crawling toward me. Hurry up, I want to see what it is! I screamed in my mind.

Finally, he came to a stop in front of me and whipped the unknown item from behind his back.

Wait. . .was that . . .?

I squealed happily, throwing myself at him for an enthusiastic hug. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

He laughed, willingly handing over the half gallon tub of vanilla ice cream and large package of teriyaki beef jerky. His face glowing as he beamed proudly, he always felt good about providing these kinds of treats for me. It made him feel like a good provider.

I dug in to the rare delicacy, swiping the jerky through the slightly melted ice cream and biting off a healthy portion. I hummed happily as I chewed. Heaven.

"Hey! How is it fair that she gets ice cream?" Shane hollered from six feet away.

Willy turned his own glare on the jerk. "Ya shut yer mouth right now! There ain't no special treatment goin' on here, I just haven't distributed the rest yet. Ya forfeited yer share when ya touched her like ya did."

"That's horse shit!" The other man yelled angrily, storming closer.

"Come over here like that an' I won't hesitate ta put ya down." My brother warned him, his gun ready. "I've had just about enough outta ya."

Rick stepped forward, a restraining hand on Shane's chest. "He's right, Shane, you were wrong. Handling a lady, the way you did-a pregnant woman no less-can't go unpunished. Forfeiting your share of ice cream is just a start, we will work out the other part among ourselves."

Willy nodded. "Fair enough."

Maggie brought two coolers out and lay them on the grass. "There's one in there for each of ya. These two coolers can be kept in your camp. Ours in in a separate cooler."

Rick and Glenn took the coolers and placed them in the R. V. Dale stayed behind with a gun to make sure no one attempted to take their share early.

"Hang tight, lil lady, there's more where that came from." Willy grinned, gesturing to my ice cream covered jerky.

"More? This is nicer than we've had it in a while, and that's enough for me." I assured him.

It was true, not all of our scavenges were successful while we were on the road. Sometimes, we lost more than we gained or barely broke this new world equivalent of even. He always made sure I had enough to eat, though, even if it meant he didn't eat in a week.

He was good like that.

He ignored me in favor of climbing into the back of the white truck. There was a few noises I couldn't place, maybe shuffling or shuffling? Then he climbed out and reached in to tug on something. A closed box that had been bigger than the other boxes they'd brought out and a longer, thinner box lay on top of it.

"What's that?" I asked curiously, hearing my question echoed among the group.

He set the boxes down and opened the thinner one. "Your old one is getting a bit beat up." He mumbled, a shy shrug as I peeked in.

My breath caught. Inside the box was a sky blue summer dress from the maternity section.

I barely registered someone taking the ice cream and jerky from my hands so I could remove the dress from the box. I held it up to my body and happy tears flooded my eyes. It was so soft and beautiful. "Willy. Its beautiful. You didn't have to."

"I wanted ta. Yer down ta yer last dress an' I ruined the one yer wearing with my filthy self." He chuckled, his eyes honest and sincere. "Ya deserve better than this world, Abilene, an' I'll give ya all I can as long as I can."

I hurriedly placed the dress back in its box and hugged the man. "You're too good to me. I can never repay you for all you've done for me already."

"One more surprise." He cut open the next box and I wanted to cry all over again.

Rattles, onesies, tiny shoes and pacifiers were all I could see from the top of the packed box, but it was enough to know that he'd brought back stuff for the baby. A teddy bear was also there.

"You should know he took down twelve walkers just so he could get that box." Maggie spoke up from my left, nodding to the box of baby stuff. She smiled softly, rolling her eyes at me playfully when I shot her a questioning look. "He refused to leave without it."

My mind blown with his thoughtful stubbornness and heart threatening to burst with love for this man, I smiled and did the only thing I could. "Thank you. For everything."

It would never be enough, but it was all I had for him.

He kissed my forehead and gathered both boxes back up. "Ya enjoy yer treats 'fore the ice cream melts, I'll put this upstairs until yer ready for it. I know how important that whole nesting business is for ya."

"You have a good man there, if you don't mind my saying so." Rick said as I watched Willy walk to the house.

"Don't I know it." I sighed as I resumed eating. "So who's this?"

He followed my gesture to the short haired woman. "That's Carol. . ."

I listened to him say each name and greeted each in turn. Each responded kindly, giving me at least one compliment or kind comment.

Maybe we could all get along after all. . .

Time will tell.


	7. Laundry Dilemmas

**Disclaimer: I do not own Walking Dead, its characters, or its plot. I do not make any profit with the creation of this story. Abilene and Willy are the only thing that's mine.**

_ **Laundry Dilemmas** _

I stood beside the picnic table and watched the group I'd taken the time to get to know go about their day. It had been two days since Willy and Shane had their confrontation, and the latter hadn't been seen much since.

I preferred it that way.

Dale smiled kindly at me as he approached. "Shouldn't you be resting, honey?"

I had finished feeding the chickens and done my gardening for the day. My feet and back were aching, but when I _tried_ to sit, I couldn't get comfortable for some reason. No matter how I moved, shifted, alternated, I still felt sore and achy in some part of me or another. Back, bottom, intimate regions, you name it and it had some problem when I sat down a certain way.

"I'm as rested as I'm gonna get." I shrugged, adjusting my position for the tenth time.

"I'm sorry to hear that." He replied in his soft, kind voice.

I smiled at the older gentleman.

He patted my free hand.

Our small piece of quiet was broken as a figure emerged from the tree line, limping toward camp. The odd shapes on either side off the head made me think of a certain hunter and his crossbow.

Daryl.

He had gone against all advice and went looking for the little girl yesterday, staying out after dark. Carol, Rick and Glenn were on the edge of a panic attack when he hadn't returned by the time everyone went to sleep last night. I think Willy and I were the only ones who weren't worried, we knew a country boy in the woods would be more than alright.

I observed the hunter walk to a tent that had a motorcycle parked nearby and squirrel carcasses strung between two trees.

Daryl Dixon wasn't an easy man for me to peg. There were moments where I could swear, he was about to do or say something decent. . .then he does the exact opposite and is completely surly. He hasn't spoken to me at all, or even used his preferred communication of grunting. His redeeming quality, the only one I have found thus far, was the devotion and determination to locating the missing child. 

Well, that and. . . . 

My eyes flicked to Carol. The woman was beginning to lose hope, I could see it. Nothing anyone had said so far was helping. Every time the search came up empty, another large chunk of her hope dissipated.

I can feel her pain. The difference in our situation is my Missy escaped with three people to protect her whereas her daughter is alone. 

Daryl and Rick were the only people from the group who seemed to have hope that Sophia was alive.

I turned back to the hunter. There had to be more to him, whenever he looked at Carol I could see something different in his eyes. He wasn't as he seemed to be, but didn't want anyone to know that he cared.

"Has he started moving yet?" Willy asked, unwrapping a ham sandwich as he walked around to stand beside me.

"Nothing." I replied dryly. I understood he was waiting excitedly for movement and growing to occur, but this was the third time he asked me that question today.

He set the sandwich down on the picnic table and bent over, cradling my baby bump in his large hands. "Hey, little buddy, ya gonna start moving in there? Huh?"

I giggled, he looked a bit silly leaning over to talk to my belly with a smear of mustard on the corner of his mouth. "You look ridiculous, Willy Pickens. You have mustard on your face."

He licked at it, missing it completely.

Boys! I huffed mentally, rolling my eyes.

A small nudge from my bump had me staring incredulously at my stomach. Happiness flared momentarily, until I realized it was only after _he_ asked for movement.

I glared at Willy.

He laughed and nuzzled his nose against my bump. "It ain't _my_ fault he knows I spoil ya both rotten."

"You think he behaves for you because you feed him special treats and bring him rare items found these days?" I raised my eyebrows at him.

"No. That's just a sign of the bond we have." He grinned, kissing my bump a few times. "Don't be jealous, he'll love ya best cause you're his mama."

Okay, I couldn't stay mad at him. Darn it.

I smacked his arm as he stood up. "You can go back to herding cattle or whatever you were doing before you decided to stop by."

He grinned, remaining unphased in the slightest at my abrupt mood changes. He was used to them by now. "Yes, ma'am. Try ta get a bit of rest before ya get back ta work, please."

"Yeah, thanks." I grudgingly agreed, still a bit sore about him getting a response so easily.

Willy dropped one last kiss on my bump and stood, eating the rest of his sandwich as he walked toward the cattle pasture.

I sighed and lowered myself on the bench, settling for people watching while I had free time. Carol moved mechanically, more habit than anything, as she washed and hung laundry. At times she would grab something she'd already washed to wash again. Andrea was still more concerned with pick up trucks and maps then helping with laundry.

I wasn't entirely sure where Lori was.

Daryl had disappeared into his tent and had stayed in there throughout my conversation with Willy and even after, while I sat at the picnic table. I suspected he was resting or preparing to return to the search.

I tried to remember if I'd seen him or anyone else do his laundry since they've been camped here. Not one instance came to mind.

I decided then that I would see if I could do it for him. He'd worked so hard to find Sophia, the least I could do is clean his clothes if he wouldn't take the time to. Carol couldn't offer, she was barely able to wash her own laundry, the poor soul.

I nodded, determined.

I walked over to Daryl's secluded tent and paused for a moment. There wasn't a door to knock on and I wasn't sure he'd appreciate me shouting at him in his campsite. I frowned, brain working for a solution. Should I try to knock on a tent pole and see if he hears me?

Ah, what the heck? Maybe he won't yell at me.

I tapped my knuckles on the nearest pole and waited patiently for any sign that he could hear me.

"What?!" A male voice growled from inside.

"Hi. Daryl?" I called uncertainly. He sounded irritated. I hadn't watched his tent closely, things might have happened.

The tent split in a flurry of movement and the slightly shaggy haired hunter emerged. "Yeah. What ya want?"

"I noticed that you were spending all your time in the woods and haven't gotten to your laundry yet. I am needing to do mine, so I thought I could wash your clothes while I'm at it. You can still search for the little girl and when you get back, you'll have fresh clothes." I bit my lip nervously.

"Why the hell would ya do that?" He snapped, his usual gruff manner. Blue eyes piercing me.

"After all you've done to locate Sophia, you deserve a fresh set of clothes to change into when you rest." I answered honestly. "You've done more than the others have. Carol should be offering, as her mother, but. . ."

He glanced behind me, shifting on his feet. He looked uncomfortable that I was trying to be nice to him. My suspicions were being confirmed.

"I can wash my own damn clothes." He growled, blue eyes narrowed.

"I know, but I imagine you'll want to leave as soon as possible to start searching again. Doing your laundry will take away from your search time." I pointed out with raised eyebrows.

He grumbled, shifting on his feet and glaring at me as he thought over my words. "Fine."

I nodded, staying where I was.

"What now?!" He snarled, irritated.

"I assume you'll want to gather your laundry yourself. I don't imagine you want me in your tent." I answered calmly. I knew the hunter got irritated easily if he was in the middle of something.

"Whatever." He grumbled, disappearing into the tent.

I waited patiently for him to emerge with the dirty clothes. I wasn't disappointed, though he grumbled and made some things clatter against each other, he did in fact return with an arm full of clothes. I took them from him and chose to ignore his grumpy frown.

Also, the stench that assaulted my nose from his clothes. 

"I will go get these started for you!" I said cheerfully, turning and walking back to the laundry station the ladies had set up.

Carol was still in the cycle of washing, wringing, hanging and re-washing a handful of items from each load. Lori was sitting with Rick and Hershel on the porch. Rick was pale and looked like he was about to fall over if he hadn't been supported.

He was a good father. He was nearly killing himself to give his blood to his son.

I hope I could be a good parent to my baby. I don't know to raise a baby in this world. Before, everything I could possibly need or want I could order or pick up from the local store. I would've had to worry about health risks, sure, but not as severe as now. Now, when the pharmacies and hospitals ran out of man made medicine, that was it. There may be natural alternatives, but not everyone has access to that knowledge anymore. You can't look it up on Google or call the local doctor up.

It was a hell of a time to have a baby.

I shook those thoughts away. It would do no good dwelling on it now. He was coming, ready or not.

I settled carefully beside a hand washer that Hershel and Maggie had slightly altered for me. The rhythmic, repeated movements comforted me and reminded me of home. We washed clothes like this, even before the world went crazy and the dead returned to eat the living.

My thoughts kept returning to Daryl as I washed his clothes and mine.

He had a look in his eyes.

He was not a bad man, neither was he as pure as freshly fallen snow. He was somewhere in the middle. He tried to be hard and cold, but it wasn't in him to be that way. A part of him cared and he didn't know how to deal with that. It made him angry-frustrated.

I can see the man you could become, Daryl Dixon. You just need time and subtle guidance.

* * *

I frowned, glancing between the hamper of damp clothes and the hanging line.

I could hang the clothes on the line, but I had heard that it was a bad idea for pregnant women to do that kind of thing after a certain point in the pregnancy.

But, which point was it, again?

I glared at the line, wheels turning full throttle, going through every piece of information I'd heard and read trying to remember when exactly that point was supposed to be. I didn't think I'd reached it, yet, but I wanted to be sure.

Maybe I could use a smart shortcut to hang up laundry without risking injury to me or my fetus. I could find sticks to work as extensions of my arms, but they were pointy and unstable.

I highly doubt ripped clothes would be appreciated by the hunter who pretended he didn't care. Holes meant better access to skin, which meant greater chances at being bitten. 

I scowled down at the clothes, laying innocently in the basket.

I would need help.

I scanned the camp site. Dale wasn't on top of the R. V, so he was most likely inside the R. V or walking. Andrea was perched on top of the R. V with a hat and shotgun, Lori hasn't been able to get the blonde woman to pitch in with laundry so there wouldn't be help there. Carol was completely immersed in chores and I wasn't that desperate. The big man, T-Dog I think, was heading back to camp from the direction of the house.

He looked like my best bet at the moment.

Here goes nothing.

I left the hamper with the line, walking as fast as possible across the yard to meet him before he found something else to occupy his time.

"Excuse me," I called to him, waving a little to ensure I caught his attention.

"Hey, are you okay?" T-Dog asked, concerned, watching me carefully as I stopped beside him. He hovered beside me like he'd either run for Herschel or try to provide any provisions I needed himself.

"I'm fine. Could you do me a favor?" I asked hopefully. _Please say_ _yes_, I pleaded in my head._ You look like you would say yes to what I have in mind._

"Uh, sure. . ." He replied, though it was more of a question.

"I have a hamper of clothes I can't hang up and if I don't find a way to soon, they'll mildew. Could you pin them up for me, please?" I looked up at him with hope. He was taller than me and obviously couldn't be pregnant, being a man. He also wasn't busy with life threatening search parties or blood transfusions. Those facts made him the perfect choice to help me.

"Yeah, I can do that." He nodded, a relieved grin on his face.

He totally thought I was going to ask him something else for a favor. If I were a turkey, I could totally milk this for all it was worth. Fortunately for him, I'm not a turkey.

"Thank you." I smiled gratefully. Yes! Problem solved. Torn clothes crisis averted.

"It's no big deal, don't have anything else I gotta do at the moment, might as well be useful to somebody." He followed me without question to where I left the clothes. He began with Daryl's pile, eyebrow raised at what was obviously the hunters shirt, but he didn't ask.

I appreciated and respected that.

"I don't mean to be rude and you don't have to answer, but your name isn't really T-Dog, is it?" I asked, hoping it wasn't an offensive question.

T-Dog shrugged. "Nah, just a nickname. I prefer it anyway."

"Too embarrassing?" I guessed, curious now but respecting the obvious boundary he set up.

"Yeah, you could say that." He chuckled. "How far along are you?"

"Not sure, exactly. My best estimate is between five and six months. I lost track once we started moving a lot, the date book I kept was left behind at one of our old camps. He should be coming before too terribly long, I've heard the time flies." I smiled widely, lovingly stroking the growing bump.

He blinked. "Oh it's a boy?"

"Maybe. I don't know. I mean. . . I think it could be a boy, but all this walker stuff happened before I was able to find out." I frowned, wishing I knew for sure. "The morning it started I was scheduled for a sonogram at five that afternoon."

"I'm sorry, but you've made it this far. That counts for something good, right?" He smiled, still hanging Daryl's clothes.

He had a point.

"Yes." I murmured, memories of those best forgotten days replaying in my head.

"Do you mind if I ask you where the father is?" He asked suddenly, catching me off guard.

I blinked up at him, body instinctively tensing. "What?"

"I mean, it's clear that Willy dude cares about you and the baby, but he ain't the father. He treats you more like a sister and you treat him like a brother. Which leaves a mystery man we haven't heard about or seen." He explained, shocking me with his insightful conclusions. They hit the mark dead on.

I had hoped that no one had noticed the sibling bond and assumed that he was my husband or whatever. I had hoped that it would deter them from asking about the father, but in the span of one minute, I was being proved wrong.

I wasn't sure I knew this guy well enough to spill my guts out to him.

"Look, T-Dog, you seem like a nice guy and you're being a great help to me at the moment. I don't want to be a jerk or anything, but we haven't really talked to each other much. The father-it's complicated and I'm not sure I know you well enough to talk to you about it." I felt like a total jerk.

"You don't have to explain anything to me." He shrugged and his posture changed, revealing the awkwardness of the situation.

"Its nothing personal." I added lamely, feeling worse now that I'd made him uncomfortable.

He nodded repeatedly. "Yeah, yeah."

"Maybe we can remedy that." I rushed out, nervous and wanting to make the awkwardness and discomfort disappear. "We can ask each other harmless questions to get to know each other a little better. And maybe. . .you know, a bit later. . .one day. . .I will feel comfortable enough to tell you all about him."

He was quiet, making me sweat and. fidget nervously.

_Please say something. . . Anything. . . You can even tell me it's a stupid idea, just say something. _I begged silently, biting down on my bottom lip.

"What's your favorite color?" He finally asked, breaking the silence.

I thought for a moment, sifting through memories.

Got it.

I grinned. "The clear blue the ocean turns when there aren't tides or tidal waves messing up the hue. So clear it's almost like looking through liquid glass, and you can see everything. All the life underneath your feet. An entire world down there, untouched by any of the bull that goes on on dry land."

I returned to my body, remembering that I was on a farm in the walker apocalypse and we were talking about favorite colors. "What's yours?"

"Green, I guess, if I had to pick just one color." T-Dog answered, he paused when he realized that Daryl's clothes were hung and it was now my shirt he was holding up to pin. "Uh. . ."

I blushed, coming to the same conclusion he had. My underwear and bras were in the basket. "It's fine. If you don't they will mildew and I will have to bother Willy to grab more on the next run for supplies. Just pretend they are yours if it will make you more comfortable."

He snorted, but hung up the shirt and grabbed the next item.

I let my eyes wander a bit. Shane, Rick. Glenn and Dale were gathered on the porch and it didn't look like they were having a pleasant discussion.

*~Glenn~*

Shane glared at Abilene's back as she and T-Dog talked. "What do we really know about her? Besides the fact that she's pregnant." He snapped when Dale opened his mouth to reply.

"It's not really our business, Shane." Rick reasoned, sitting in the single chair available.

"How is it not our business? For all we know she could have killed people or somethin!" He said, eyes blazing with angry fire and cooler than ice cubes. "Think about Carl-think about Lori!"

This was just getting more ridiculous and insane.

"Dude, she's pregnant, what do you expect she's going to do?" I hissed, glancing at the woman in question.

"Glenn is right. She's just a girl who's expecting a baby." Dale stressed the end sentence, kind and true as always. You could count on him to tell it like it is, no matter what you think or what happens.

"Shane, I don't think she's a threat to anybody, especially in her condition." Rick spoke in that deceptively soft voice of his.

"You can't know that! Plenty of women committed murder or theft while they were in her condition. It never stopped _them_." Shane growled, unrelenting.

"If she wanted to harm anyone in our camp, she would have done so already. She's had countless opportunities. Not to mention that she's lived with Hershel and his family for nearly a month without incident." Rick pointed out, not budging either.

"Not every killer began right away." Shane tried, again, to persuade us. "She is a threat, Rick, and we can't just let her-"

"That's enough! Abilene is _not_ a threat and nothing-look at me, Shane-nothing is going to be done to her." Rick had changed his voice to the intense cop voice he'd used more than a few times in the past.

Shane stormed away without another word and I sighed in relief. Thank God that was over.

I glanced over to the laundry section, scanning the area and landing on the topic of the argument disguised as a discussion.

Abilene was trailing Shane with her eyes, her face and posture worried.

Shit, we must have been louder than I thought.

I attempted to smile at her, but I probably screwed up, because she didn't lose the worried look.

_Damn._

* * *

*~Abilene~*

The conversation intensity escalated and Shane looked more frustrated as time passed. Dale, Rick and Glenn looked like they were ready for it to be over.

At one point, Rick changed, his lips moved faster and his face became harder. He wasn't the kind father now. He was the leader putting his foot down about whatever they were practically whisper shouting over.

Shane got fed up at that point and stormed off, the glare he sent my way contained enough venom to kill an entire herd of cattle.

I turned back to the porch. Rick, Dale and Glenn were still gathered there, although they looked more relaxed now. Glenn caught my gaze and attempted to smile, but I was weak.

I drew the terrifying conclusion that the group on the porch were fighting over something to do with me.

There was no other explanation I could think of.

I was still staring at Glenn, thoughts in chaos, when the yell rang out.

"_Walker_!" Andrea yelled from the top of the R. V.

The camp jolted with life then, fear and uncertainty running wild as guns were loaded and feet flew for the tree line.

Time slowed down and sped up at the same time. My heart pounded terror through my veins, I wouldn't be able to get up to the safety of the house in time depending on how close it was to camp. Faces flashed through my mind. Patricia, Beth, Maggie, Jimmy, Willy, Missy.

A gunshot exploded through the air, taking away my breath.

Did it hit the mark? Was there more than one?

"No!" A voice yelled shortly after. "No!"

"It was Daryl!" Another shouted out amidst the chorus of exclamations.

Daryl?

Someone shot Daryl?

The news sunk in.

_ **Oh my God!** _

Suddenly, laundry dilemmas, awkward conversations with T-Dog and venomous glares from the crazy cop didn't seem that important.


	8. Shot in the Dark

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Walking Dead or any of its characters. All OCs are mine and plot deviations as well.**

**WARNING: MENTIONS OF RAPE!**

_ **Shot in the Dark** _

*~Abilene~*

I stared in helpless horror as Daryl was half carried, half dragged into the farm house by Glenn and Willy.

_Please don't die,_ I pleaded him in my mind. _Please don't die, please don't die, please don't die._

I couldn't do anything to help, I'd had no medical training or anything useful at all.

I thought back to the time I had spent at the farm, when Daryl's group came and the time since then. I only had insights about him and hadn't really interacted with him aside from talking to him about washing his clothes for him. Before then, I caught glimpses of him through my window or during chores as he went about his business.

I caught sight of Andrea staring after them, wide eyed and pale.

An innocent life could be extinguished today and it was because she didn't wait until her theory was confirmed. She saw an injured man stumbling out of the woods and assumed the worst, then shot him.

Rick and Shane had it handled without her interference. They were prepared to take care of a lone walker quietly, without risking attracting more with a gunshot and she took matters into her own hands anyway. She shot Daryl needlessly for selfish reasons.

Anger courses through me then, hot and red, and I flew at her. "You could've killed him!"

"Whoa!" T-Dog shouted, startled, and tried to carefully pull me off of the blonde.

I punched at every part of her that I could reach, anger boiling under my skin. "He wasn't even a walker! He was hurt! You should have waited until you could see him properly!"

"Abilene!" T-Dog was nervous and not totally trying, which worked to my advantage.

I hit harder, growing angrier each time I thought about what happened. People die when they let stupidity rule over common sense, everyone knows that noise draws the dead, but _gunshots_ _especially_. Camps get overrun when someone gets the bright idea to throw everything to the wind because they have something to prove or they can handle themselves. Annie Oakley here thought she was above Rick and Hershel's rule, ignored Dales warning and shot half cocked because she wanted to be like the boys. She was tired of _women's work._

"I was just trying to protect the farm!" Andrea yelled, arms raised to defend herself. "I was doing my job."

"That's not good enough! You knew you didn't have a good visual and you took the shot anyway! What if it had been Rick or Shane or Glenn? You almost killed a living person just because you wanted to prove you could be just like the men! There was one suspected Walker, they move slower than us, you could have waited to confirm it was a walker for longer than you did. Rick took people to go investigate and handle the problem quietly if necessary. You just wanted to beat Rick and the men to the punch." I stopped at that point, still angry but I was becoming tired.

I carefully scooted away from her, glaring hard at her and fuming silently.

Then, my rage shifted into something else. I blinked, my chin trembling as tears starting streaming. "I'm not a violent person. I don't like violence, it doesn't solve anything. I'm being a mean violent meanie and you're shooting members of your group to try to show up other people. What's happening to us?"

Andrea lay still for a few moments, panting, before she stood up and walked to the house.

I rubbed my belly and counted my breaths. Breathe in. Daryl was fine. Breathe out. The bullet just grazed him, he was fine. And repeat.

Eventually, the tears subsided and my mood swings leveled out.

"Abilene? You okay?" T-Dog was eyeing me nervously.

I wasn't sure how to answer. These were very intense mood swings and I wasn't usually so violent toward anyone. "I don't know. I'm not usually so violent, I just hate when people do stupid stuff for stupid reasons, no matter what the consequences are."

"I can understand your point, but I also know that she honestly did want to help keep the camp safe." He replied, eyes watching me carefully. He glanced between my face and bulging stomach. "You shouldn't have flown at her like that, could've hurt yourself, but you were right to be angry."

"I know." I sighed, rubbing my bump. I moved to the lawn chair beside the clothes line.

He smiled, squeezing my shoulder and leaving me sitting beside the hanging clothes.

My mind was a mess. I attacked Andrea today, which I don't do because I hate violence and don't believe it solves problems. She did shoot Daryl, even though it only grazed the side of his head. What if Daryl died? What if he turned and no one noticed until it was too late? What if my baby dies during delivery? What if I die before Hershel can get my baby out?

I did something I hadn't done for at least two weeks.

I prayed.

"Dear heavenly father, I know I haven't spoken to you in a few days, but please let my baby enter this world healthy and alive. Also, please don't take Daryl into your holy kingdom just yet. He has a lot of good in him, I've seen it, and he hasn't opened his full potential yet. But, I know he will if you give him more time. In your holy name, I pray. Amen." I began to breathe easier now that I knew He had heard my words.

Whether or not He would answer is another matter.

* * *

*~Glenn~*

Hershel was stitching Daryl up, Andrea's bullet had only grazed him, but he had other injuries to worry about. He had taken an arrow through his side among other smaller injuries caused by a tumble.

Hershel said that Daryl had lost a lot of blood and that the added stress of being shot had knocked him out cold.

Unfortunately for all involved, he was awake now and was understandably unhappy.

Willy and I were standing in the doorway, we had already given our account and were waiting in case Herschel needed us to restrain Daryl.

T-Dog walked up the stairs, pausing when he saw us.

"T-Dog? What's going on?" I asked, startled at his sudden presence inside. He was outside with Abilene when we came inside.

He ignored my question and focused on Willy. "Abilene attacked Andrea. You should probably have Hershel check on her after he's done with Daryl."

Abilene? Blonde, about my height, pregnant girl Abilene? I frowned, confused. She was usually so quiet and sweet. I had trouble picturing her attacking a bunny rabbit, let alone a member of our group.

"Attacked? What happened?" Willy asked, immediately protective and concerned.

"She flew at Andrea in a fury for almost killing Daryl because of her need to prove to the men she could handle protecting the camp as well as we can." T-Dog answered, staring evenly at the other man. "She dressed her down pretty thoroughly and made a strong case. She was right, but she handled it wrong. Then she started crying and sort of babbling about violence and other stuff."

Willy immediately turned and headed for the stairs. T-Dog followed at a more sedate pace, leaving me alone in the hallway.

She actually did it? I couldn't believe it. She didn't seem like she had it in her. She cried afterward? What was that about?

I glanced between Daryl and the stairs. Should I stay silent and wait for Hershel to be finished with Daryl or go with Willy to check on Abilene?

I shifted, weighing the pros and cons of each choice.

Abilene had two people to keep an eye on her, only I was with Hershel and Daryl. She should be fine until Hershel gets done.

I would stay.

_You are full of surprises, Abilene_. I thought, resuming my watch.

* * *

*~Abilene~*

I sat in the shade beside the clothes line, listening to the wind and relishing the fresh burst of air. I heard the exact moment Willy was outside.

"Abilene! Ya okay? Did ya hurt yer knuckles or anythin'? Do ya need anythin'? Glass of water, hug, Hershel?" He ranted in near manic concern.

I couldn't help but laugh. "I might have to avoid Andrea for awhile, but I'm okay." 

"Ya want some company or anythin'?" He asked, eyes smiling but trying to keep a blank face because he knew my outburst embarrassed me.

"Hey, dork, don't you have chores to do?" I giggled, but he got an A for effort. He really was trying hard to be supportive.

Willy blushed, honest to god blushed.

Wait a minute.

I narrowed my eyes. "Willy Ray Pickens. What did you do?"

He flinched, looking for all the world like a guilty child caught with his hand in the sweets jar before dinner.

I stood up, then I placed my hands on my hips, raised my eyebrow and tapped my foot.

"I might have asked Jimmy an' T-Dog ta cover me so I could keep an eye on ya until Hershel is free ta check ya over." He blurted, cringing expectantly as soon as he finished.

I blinked.

"I know ya don't like it when I make a fuss, but we should be sure in case ya hurt somethin' cause ya don't always admit when yer hurtin' or uncomfortable." He continued like he was confessing all his sins before God himself.

I sighed. He was right, I had a habit of ignoring things because I don't like the fuss I'd cause. It was embarrassing sometimes and not always necessary.

"Since you're here, can you make me a fruit salad? I think I'm ready for a snack and a nap." I murmured, shifting uncomfortably. The fight with Andrea had tired me out, but I hadn't wanted to say anything. After what Willy said, I decided to reconsider.

"Of course, ya never have ta ask." He agreed, like I knew he would. He was so good to me, even though I sometimes wasn't too nice due to hormones.

I would be eternally grateful to that man.

It was awkward, passing Andrea and Rick on the porch. Carol had gone inside at some point. I walked up the stairs, blushing like a tomato whenever someone looked at me. I couldn't reach my bedroom quickly enough.

I sat on my bed and pulled the sheets up to cover my lap.

Willy brought me the salad shortly after, sitting on the end of bed. He talked to me about Daryl's condition and the gossip about me attacking Andrea spreading through the house as well as the camp.

I blushed, ducking my head.

"It's not a big deal, Abi. She was in the wrong an' ya wanted ta help her understand what she did had consequences, that there could be worse consequences than the ones she landed with." He said quietly, his eyes unfocused as he drifted. His thoughts and mind further away, lost in memories of another time and another place.

I swallowed, mine following. Pictures of people and places floated in front of my eyes, replacing the plate of half eaten food sitting on my lap. I lost my appetite.

"Hey," the familiar husky voice murmured, a warm hand enveloping my smaller one.

I blinked, raising my head and attempting a smile.

It must have been a sad, forlorn little thing, because his eyes were also sad and tinged with concern.

"Ya should eat. The dead an' the past can keep."

I ate mechanically, forcibly filling my head with happier images of different times to counter the bad. Soon, my plate was clean and I was laying down, yawning.

"If anythin' happens, holler fer me an' I'll get Hershel." Willy told me seriously, kissing me on the forehead.

"I will, promise." I whispered, already dozing off.

I almost didn't make it to the toilet when I woke up, but thank goodness I did.

"Is a bonfire really a wise choice, Rick?" Shane growled, his voice low and strained. "You know as well as I do that walkers are drawn to the light. The fences will only keep out so many walkers before the whole damn thing breaks and a herd comes through."

"We need to think about mental health, too. If these people become too involved, too stressed, too hopeless they could want to give up. We need a night without fear, all of us." Rick insisted, hearing none of Shane's bull. "We can shield the fire against the walkers, but this is happening."

I was really hungry, but I didn't want to interrupt. The last thing that would help my case with Shane is him thinking I had eavesdropped on them. Accident or not, it wouldn't matter. He hated me and would use any excuse to get rid of me.

I waited, impatiently, while they walked back toward Daryl's temporary room.

Which reminded me, I wanted to check on him myself.

Maybe I could bring him food since I was going to go to the kitchen anyway? But I didn't know what kind of food he liked. Did he have any food allergies? Was he lactose intolerant or had any other dietary special needs? I guess I could bring him a bit of everything and he could choose what he wanted. I also needed to ask permission to put his clean clothes in his tent so other people could use the line.

I knew he was big on his privacy and wouldn't appreciate anyone walking into his tent, whether he was laid up in bed or not. He was the kind of man that could hold a grudge and keep it for a very long time. He also would most likely shoot trespassers if he caught them, unless they were lost children.

I felt wrong about invading his privacy, but he didn't know me so he didn't know that.

I thought back to the bonfire as I descended the stairs. I doubted that I was invited, because no one had approached me and I had attacked a member of Rick's group. The fact that it had been in response to a shooting, didn't matter. I was an outsider who attacked a group member, end of story.

I still thought about crashing the bonfire. My conversation with T-Dog before Andrea shot Daryl replayed in my mind.

He was right.

Carl was still on bed rest, so I wouldn't have to worry about that.

There was a chance my idea would blow up in my face. Shane would hate me more, and there was a chance the rest of the group wouldn't want anything to do with me after tonight.

I made a plate with leftover baked chicken breast, roasted ham with pineapple slices, mashed potatoes, green beans, Mac and Cheese, and some sliced fruit. I heaped the plate high, thinking whatever he wouldn't want or couldn't eat, I would. Everything on the menu was something I could eat and wasting food was not an option these days.

I knocked on the door to Daryl's temporary room, listening for his movement as well as his reply.

"What do ya want?" He called out gruffly.

I cracked the door so he could hear me better. "It's Abilene. I brought you some food, in case you were hungry."

"Come in if yer comin' in." He groused.

I see the injuries and near death experience hadn't changed him much. He was still gruff and trying his best to act like he was made of marble. Neither surprised me.

He was covered in a blanket from the neck down when I walked in. That did surprise me, but only a little.

"I didn't know what you liked or if you had allergies, so I brought a little of everything." I explained when he scowled at the plate. I set the plate down on the small bedside table and backed away. He didn't immediately start eating and I was getting nervous, because I didn't know what was in the food exactly, so I could still accidentally kill him.

"Whatever the hell is making ya think so damn hard, quit." He snapped, irritated.

"You don't have food allergies, do you?" I asked, ignoring his mood.

"How the hell should I know?" He dug in, tearing into the ham. "What d'ya care if I have em or not?"

"Maybe I don't want to kill you." I snapped, finally becoming agitated with his attitude. "Eat it, don't eat it, I don't care. I was trying to be nice to ya, ya asshole."

I stormed out of the room and felt a twinge of guilt for calling him names and getting cross when I was half way down the stairs. I sighed, carefully turning and doubled back, walking to his room.

This time I didn't knock.

He was picking at the plate when I entered the second time, his head snapped up as the door swung open. "I'm sorry I raised my voice and called you an asshole. I shouldn't have done that, even though you weren't a ray of sunshine yourself. You've had a bad day, you're injured and have a reason to be cranky. Rick is organizing a bonfire tonight, if you want to come."

I left Daryl, sure he didn't need or wantmwant standing around staring at him while he ate. I was unsure if he would elect to join. He wasn't exactly social, but he could have his own secretive motive for going.

There was also the matter of speaking up at the bonfire.

Each was a shot in the dark.

I went into Hershel's "office" for a quick checkup that told me what I already knew. I didn't injure myself during my embarrassing display earlier.

I decided to read in a nice little nook in the living room, since I was tired of being in my room. My book of choice was the final book in the Lord of the Rings series, The Return of the King. It was the saddest of the series, in my opinion, I always cried at the end.

I immersed myself thoroughly in the book until my protesting stomach growled and gurgle, drawing my attention to the fact that it was almost dark and the bonfire would begin soon.

I made myself a plate of baked leftovers, since Carol had to fry their meat with some unidentified canned substance. The smell of it made my stomach turn, and it was very obviously not healthy for me, so I declined as politely as I could.

Which, considering the fact that I was fighting the urge to throw up, was not as polite as I usually am to my shame.

I carefully carried my plate and glass of ice water outside, waddling down to the steps and over the lawn to the group gathered around the fire.

Everyone but Carl and Daryl were present.

Andrea sat between Glenn and T-Dog, Lori and Rick beside them. Shane and Dale were sitting on the tail ends of each half of the circle, though clearly they didn't like the seating. I stopped on the outer edges, hesitating.

"Hey, guys. Do you. . .um. . .do you mind if I join you?" I murmured, glancing at each fact to try to guess if they wanted me there.

Shane glared at me, the dark gleam in his eyes unsettling. He was looking at me like I had single handedly shot Carl and declared that the rest of them were next on my hit list. Andrea stared at the ground in front of her resolutely. The rest were smiling or nodding and gesturing for me to join them.

"Here, let me." Glenn, the sweetheart that he is, jumped up from his spot and piled a spare chair with pillows.

"Oh, no, that's not necessary. I can find a comfy spot in the middle somewhere." I waved him off, not wanting to take his chair from him.

He froze, then quickly turned around looking horrified and panicked. "You can't sit on the ground! You're pregnant! You need somewhere softer, more comfortable and supportive for your changing body. Your brother is going to kill me if you don't take my chair, so please take it."

"Thank you, Glenn, that was so thoughtful." I conceded, smiling at him.

"It was just-you know women in your-it wasn't-you're welcome." He rambled, finally settling on the proper response to 'thank you'.

I sat down in the chair he had prepared for me. It was comfortable and supported my back.

"We were sharing a few stories about life from before." Glenn informed me, producing a chair from behind a nearby tree. "We haven't heard from you, yet. How about it? What did you do before?"

I realized that Willy and I haven't shared much about ourselves with the group. We should change that if we're going to establish trust.

"Willy and I were going to buy a farm." I blushed when T-Dog raised his eyebrows.

"I can see it. You are good with the animals and seem happy here beyond the fact that it's safe. From what I've seen Willy could swing the manual labor involved with the larger animals and work the land." Rick commented, leaning forward in his seat. "Was there a farmhouse like Hershel's in the plan?"

"Yes. There was a porch swing and a wrap around porch." I sighed, picturing it. "It needed a little bit of work, but the repairs wouldn't cost too much and it was perfect for us." 

"What did I miss?" Willy called as he trotted over to us, loaded plate in one hand and a glass of ice tea in the other.

"I was telling them about the farm." I answered, smiling at him. I hadn't seen him much today after my nap. "How was your day?"

"Not so bad. There weren't any walker sightings, none of the fences were broken, the equipment we have available still works like a charm and I didn't lose any of Hershel's cattle today." Willy answered, stretching in his seat with a groan. "How ya feel? Did the nap help?"

"So much." I bit my lip and glanced at the others, remembering what I had promised myself earlier.

No time like the present.

I motioned Willy to scoot his chair closer to me. If I was going to do this, I would need the support.

He obeyed, titling his head curiously, but he didn't comment.

"T-Dog, do you remember when you asked about I got pregnant?" I checked, stroking a hand over my stomach. I know those weren't his words, but I had a reason for the wording change. 

T-Dog nodded hesitantly.

"Do you remember what I told you?" I caught the confused glances from the group. Shane was glaring at me with narrowed eyes, immediately suspicious of my questions.

"That it's complicated and you might tell me once you knew us better." He answered with a confused frown. "What-"

"I have decided to change my answer. I realized something when Daryl was shot." I paused, thinking back to that moment. How it felt to think he was dead. "This might be the best I know any of you. Right now. Anytime, anywhere, one or more of us could die-from anything."

Stray nods met my short speech.

"I decided that now is the best time to share." I spared a look at Lori and Rick. "It's better if Carl isn't here, Lori. I'm not telling you this to be cruel, it's the truth. You wouldn't want him to hear. Some things are worse than being eaten alive by the dead."

She frowned, curious and still offended. I ignored that in favor of keeping my breaths even.

"My birth name is Anastasia Treskov. My parents weren't nice people. I was adopted by Willy's family when I was around eight." I trailed off, lost in the memories.

Willy wrapped a supportive arm around my shoulder and squeezed gently. The pressure kept me centered and reminded me that they were only memories. They couldn't hurt me anymore.

"What does that have to do with your kid?" Shane spat with a sneer.

Andrea and Glenn glared outright at Shane. T-Dog and Dale shook their heads at the disrespect. Willy tensed beside me hands clenched. Rick sighed like he had put several tons on his shoulders and Lori ignored all of them.

"If ya'd shut yer mouth ya'd know." Willy hissed at the former cop.

"Willy, please." I murmured softly, squeezing his hand. There had been enough animosity today.

Shane was a man who used to have a good soul, but it was tainted and changed by the new world. Willy still had a gentle spirit and a kind soul, even after all this. I didn't want him to become like Shane.

Willy ground his teeth, but settled back into his seat and rubbed the curve of my shoulder.

"Lets get back to the story, shall we?" I subtly looked pointedly at Shane. Not another word, I said with my eyes. "I finished my childhood with Willy and there were the teenage years. Anyway, I went out with a small group of my college friends to celebrate their graduation. I let them convince me to use a fake ID, stupid and cliche as that is, and I had a few drinks." 

Willy's hand tightened its grip and his body grew tense again. He knew the ending of this story.

"I made the mistake of taking a drink my girlfriend gave me. I thought she'd bought it while I was dancing, but someone had given it to her and she was allergic to one of the ingredients. I didn't feel anything at first, didn't notice anything off about it. It wasn't until I got dizzy and lost the ability to move on the way back from the restroom that I knew." I had to stop for a moment. I needed a breath.

A few of the women gasped. T-Dog's eyes widened, Glenn was gaping in shocked horror and poor Dale looked like he wanted to weep. Rick looked like he was torn between throwing up and being angry.

Willy was vibrating next to me.

"The fist few minutes were confusing and unclear. I couldn't move, so I didn't see who grabbed my feet and dragged me through the back exit of the bar. I could hear laughing and at least three voices. It didn't take long to realize that I recognized the one that seemed to be the leader, even with four of them there." It was getting harder to speak around the lump forming in my throat and tears were burning in my eyes. "He . . . .was the first to rape me."

"Abi, ya can stop if ya need ta. Ya don't have ta tell them the rest." Willy assured me with a trembling voice. He couldn't stand to see me in pain, he told me once he'd rather cut out his beating heart than see me hurting in any way.

"I can do it." I ignored the pity on a few faces in the group and squared my shoulders. I was strong. I could do this.

In. Out. In. Out.

"That happened and then they took turns. I wasn't surprised that he didn't recognize me, it had been at least twelve years and he was drunker than six skunks. The last time he saw me. . .was when the social service agents drove off with me." I rushed through the last bit, ashamed and half hoping the group wouldn't catch it.

My hopes were for naught. The reaction was immediate.

"Your father? You got. . .he . . .your father _raped_ you?" Rick choked on every word, his horrified face pale as a sheet and quickly tinting green. 

"Twice. He was never a man to let someone else outdo him." I informed him grimly. 

Glenn, T-Dog, and Andrea had similar choked, stringy responses. Dale looked like he wanted to weep for me or hug me. Lori was gaping at me, horrified. Carol was staring at me with wide eyes but didn't speak. Shane was silent for another reason entirely.

"What the hell're y'all makin' those faces for?" A rough southern voice growled as the owner limped up to the fire.

I turned as well as I could to greet Daryl. "I was sharing the story of how I got pregnant."

"That's putting it mildly." T-Dog muttered, running a hand over his face.

"I caught the bar thing an' some of the adopted bit. That don't mean they gotta be lookin' atcha like that." Daryl commented in his rough voice, gesturing at the group. "What happened weren't yer fault. He was a sick man who enjoyed hurtin' other people, that's _his_ problem."

My heart warmed in my chest, and I felt a smile split my face. I appreciated that he didn't look down on me or pity me like the group was.

I could sense an almost imperceptible change between me and the hunter. Something had shifted, however small and seemingly insignificant.

Daryl Dixon was a good man, and he was beginning to show his colors. Little by little.

I wouldn't rest until I saw him at his full potential.


	9. Is That A?

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Walking Dead franchise or its characters. Any unrecognized plot or characters are mine.**

** _Is That A. . . .?_ **

My sleep was broken and filled with mixed dreams.

When I rose for the day I felt like I'd hardly rested at all.

A part of me was glad that I could tell who of the group was compassionate and trustworthy. On the other hand, I wouldn't be able to stand the pitying expressions from Rick's group much longer.

I also felt guilty. 

_Willy was sitting on my bed waiting for me when I retired for bed. _

_"So?" He asked, eyes steady and expectant. _

_"Shane is the only one we can't trust as far as I can throw him. Everyone else seems more humane." I concluded, voice soft in case anyone was passing by. _

_"Ya did the right thing, Abi." He reassured me when guilt and doubt flickered across my face. "Ya never technically lied an' we needed ta know who'a them we can trust." _

_"I know." I whispered. I hadn't lied, I just hadn't specified _which_ pregnancy I spoke of when I told my story. _

_Sadness crept in as I thought of my first. _

_He sensed it, pulling me into his arms. "We'll find her." _

I sighed and finished my bathroom routine, heading slowly down to breakfast.

The smell of cooking meat assaulted my nose and I quickly covered my nose, gagging.

I was beyond ready to stop feeling nausea every time someone cooked sausage, chicken, ham, or deer.

I accepted the plate Patricia offered me and took it outside. Today's special was two lightly seasoned chicken patties, three eggs sunny side up and two slices of plain toast.

I looked out over the farm as I tucked into my food. I loved the view of the yard and the fields around the property. I wished, not for the first time since the world went to the dead, that things had been different. I wished that Willy had been able to buy the farm we dreamed of and moved us into the beautiful farmhouse on the property.

Halfway through breakfast, I noticed the tension and strained conversations from different members of Rick's group. Mainly the focus of the tension was Rick himself, Lori and that asshole Shane.

Was that my fault? I hadn't seen them like this before I told the group about my story.

Shane has been worse since our first encounter. He and Rick have butted heads more than a few times since their arrival. I feel that soon all the friction over the week will reach a boiling point and a line will be crossed that no one can come back from.

I wasn't sure where Daryl stood in all this.

He hadn't spoken to me since he'd showed up at the bonfire, chewed the groups ass and then told me in no uncertain terms that what happened that night wasn't my fault.

I appreciated his support last night, more than I can say, but he was still very closed off.

Speaking of the gruff hunter, Daryl had moved back into his tent for the remainder of his recovery.

I was pleasantly surprised to see that Carl was out of bed as well and outside feeding chickens under the watchful eye of his mother. His color was better than had been last reported, so that's a good sign.

He was officially up and on the mend.

My eyes caught sight of Willy talking to Rick and Glenn, their faces grave. I didn't like that Willy had that look.

It never bode well.

I brushed the bad feeling away for now, carefully standing and brushing the dust off the back of my dress before taking my dishes inside. Patricia was cleaning up, and bless her heart, she'd thought to open a window to let the kitchen air out while I did my chores.

I squeezed her shoulder in thanks and grabbed the thermos of ice water she had ready for me. "I'm gonna go walk laps after chores, so don't send the cavalry If I'm not back in before lunch."

"I'll have Beth or Maggie bring you a fresh thermos before you go. You shouldn't walk laps in this heat without at least one." Patricia reminded me softly.

"Thank you, Patricia." I waved and made my way to the garden.

I liked working in the gardens. I was able to be helpful and pull some of my very considerable weight. Both were great news for me since I hated feeling like a useless burden.

I let my mind drift while I worked, humming contentedly.

A lullaby Willy's mother used to sing me popped into my mind, making me smile.

I had terrible nightmares so I was afraid to go to bed, often forcing myself to stay awake and would pass out at random times during the day. A week after Willy's mother took me in, she found out about what I had been doing and why. She started to sing me to sleep and when I had bad flashbacks.

I really missed her.

"What is that?" A small voice asked from behind me.

"Something my mother sang to me when I was young." I told him, setting my tools to the side so that I could stand for a break. "It was the greatest song in the whole world back then, or so I thought."

I stood and turned to face my young visitor. I watched in amusement as Carl's eyes widened when he saw my belly.

"You're pregnant?" He asked, curious and surprised.

"I am." I answered, smiling.

He watched my face, eyes narrowed like he was trying to figure out if I was okay to be around.

Smart kid. Sad that it was necessary, but smart. You will survive this world, yet, Carl Grimes.

"You're the lady my mom told me about." He said finally, the stare down ending as swiftly as it had begun. "No one knows much about you. Dad said you're not in Hershel's family, but you stay in the house with them."

"I do." It was refreshing, the candidness of a child after the delicate run around adults gave me some days.

"Why? You're not his daughter or his wife, or even a family friend." He asked, pale blue eyes narrowed at me curiously.

I mulled over my response for a moment, going over phrases in my head that he might understand.

I needn't have bothered. I didn't get the chance to reply.

"Carl, I see you've met Abilene. Are you done with your chores?" Rick asked, running a hand through his sons hair.

The boy nodded, grinning at his father.

Something sharp twisted in my chest.

Rick said something softly to Carl and the boy ran back to camp, probably to his mother. Once his son was out of hearing range, he turned to me.

"I'm glad your boy is doing better." I offered honestly, smiling at him.

"Thank you." He replied, voice a little hoarse.

"You don't have to thank me, it's the truth." I dismissed his thanks with a wave of my hand.

"All the same, thank you." He said, looking down at the ground a moment and placing his hands on his hips kicking up a little dirt. "I'm sorry about what happened to you, what that monster did. It was horrible and no child should endure that from their parent."

I shook my head.

"Antoni Treskov and Emilia Sanovich may have created me, but the Pickens are my parents. They gave me a home, a family, love. Antoni and Emilia never gave me any of those things. The Pickens loved me until the day they died." I smiled sadly at Rick, tears pricking my eyes. "You are a good man, Rick Grimes. You have a good soul and you help everyone, even those that are thought to be unable to be saved. You have nothing to be sorry for. You did nothing to me that warrants the need for forgiveness."

The man winced at the sight of my tears. "I made you cry."

"The memory of people I love is a bittersweet one." I countered, wiping my cheeks. "The two year anniversary is in a month."

He nodded, reading my body language properly. "I'll leave you to your chores."

I glanced at the position of the sun. I had been out for almost an hour.

Willy came to find me soon after Rick left. "We need ta talk, inside."

I frowned, following my unusually grim and vague brother into the house. He stayed silent, leading me up the stairs and into my bedroom, constantly scanning like he was keeping a lookout for walkers. Or eavesdroppers.

He waited just inside the doorway for me to pass him.

"Willy, you're scaring me." I whispered when he closed the door behind me.

That he would go to these extremes set off warning bells. He had been pretty open and relaxed around the Greene family for two weeks now. What had changed?

"I went on an incognito run inta town today, ta see if anyone left any signs or messages next to ours. Before ya panic or give me a lecture, yer gonna wanna see this." He added the last part in a hurry, correctly stopping me from doing just that. He reached into his front jeans pocket and drew out a rolled up handkerchief. "I found this."

My blood froze when I saw what Willy held.

There, nestled innocently on the worn and slightly stained handkerchief, was a human finger. Clearly a man's from the size and build.

"Was there anything else?" I asked shakily, afraid of the answer.

"This," he answered, reaching into his back pocket. He handed the paper to me.

A familiar symbol stared up at me from the battered textbook page. A set of four smaller symbols followed it, each was written in what looked like long dead and dried walker blood or coal.

Highway, green mailbox, fence, house and a barn.

I swallowed, staring at the symbols, the message clear.

I know where you are.

"I-I need to-" I broke off, shoving the paper back at him and turning for the door. I needed air and space, I needed to be outside right now.

I needed to think.

I shoved hard at the front door, gulping in the fresh air and trying to calm my racing heart. Shit! Shit, shit, _fucking shit_! Okay, breathe, you're okay. We're fine, it's fine, we're fine. Don't panic, we can figure this out.

I glanced at the position of the sun.

It wasn't noon yet.

Fuck chores, I need to walk now. It was actually a really good time to go walking.

The heat was acceptable, there had been no sightings, the day was young and I still had plenty of water in my thermos. Now was as good a time as I would probably get to walk my laps.

I would walk around the edges of the fence all around the property, steering clear of the barn and pasture.

My path decided, I donned my satchel with my thermos and set off for my first lap.

Rick's group was spread out more today, I noticed. Dale and T-Dog were walking to an area further away from the farm with water buckets.

Maggie must have told then that they can use the well out that way. To my knowledge, it wasn't being used for the cattle or us at the moment. One of the other wells was boarded up, I didn't ask why.

Not long after Dale and T-Dog left for the well, Dale came back in a hurry and the next trip to the well was with more members of the group. I could see that Lori, Shane, and Glenn were among them.

I shrugged and continued walking. Not my business.

I had enough to think about.

I was halfway through my second lap around the property when a commotion started in Dale's direction.

I turned to see what caused it, as I did, I noticed a familiar small form wearing a sheriff's hat slink off toward the woods. No one yelled after him, no one raised the alarm. No one did anything at all. No one saw him.

What was Carl thinking?! There were Walkers crawling all over the woods! He could get lost, or worse!

I turned to the group at the well. They were too far away to walk over to warn and have them here before Carl got lost or hurt.

Shouting started, the commotion at the well escalating.

"Lori!" I called, I had little hope I'd be heard over the clamor, but I had to try.

Movement, yelling, but no acknowledgement.

"Lori! Lori!" I shouted, waving my arms. "Over here! Lori!"

Nothing.

I huffed in frustration, as I expected, they couldn't hear me.

I bit my lip, glancing between the well and the woods weighing the risks as well as options. I had no choice, I didn't know where Rick was, Lori couldn't hear me and I was closest so I could grab Carl then get out in under ten minutes.

With a defeated sigh, I made my way toward the woods as fast as I could safely.

I glanced comprehensively around me, keeping watch for Walkers. I had caught clear prints for Carl and I was following them further into the trees.

A look up told me that I'd been out here longer than I'd planned. The sun was higher in the sky now, creeping closer to noon.

I frowned when I checked the ground again. The tracks had become more difficult to make out, they weren't as clear as they had been before and I wasn't experienced enough to read them correctly.

Great. Just my luck. I thought miserably.

I couldn't just give up though. So. . .I made a guess with what I could see.

I turned right and kept walking.

Trees, leaves, nature and more nature. No sign of children or anything vaguely humanoid.

"Carl?" I called softly, careful to keep my voice low. "Carl?"

My feet were really starting to bother me and my back was killing me. I'd have to find somewhere safe to rest before long. This kid had a head start and I wasn't in great shape even with the running required these days.

A twig snapped nearby and I jumped, my heartbeat picking up.

"Carl?" I whispered hopefully.

My other option was rather unfavorable. I fingered the palm sized pocket knife Willy insisted I carry with me since the Shane incident. It soothed my nerves somewhat that I had a weapon, small and easily lost as it may be.

Squinting, I searched the area and noticed something weird about what I had dismissed as overgrown brush.

The smell hit me first, floating to me on the breeze. Blood, rotting meat, _waste_.

A carcass, an animal I couldn't identify. Torn and bloody, a meal for a walker. How recently, was a question that concerned me as much as finding Carl. I ducked low, scanning the trees and brush around me, listening.

Low moans, faint, at least a few feet away.

I backed up as slow and quiet as I could, it hadn't noticed me yet. The wind blew it's stink to me, not my scent to her. A red haired middle aged woman in a tattered business suit and missing a heel hobbled along the grass. She had a severely broken ankle, an obvious bite wound on her arm, but no other injuries.

My heart pounded in my ears, adrenaline giving me a shot of energy. I kept my eyes on her, not leaving her for a second as I retreated.

Maybe, if my luck held, I could turn and run once I'd cleared another foot or so.

My luck was a damn joke.

I stepped on a twig, of course I did, and of course the walker heard it. She zoned in on me with laser focus, her steps quickening and her growls growing louder. Her milky eyes locked on me, mouth working furiously to catch any part of me between her nasty teeth.

Knife clenching in hand, I tucked tail and ran.

I ran as fast as I dared, ears straining over the sound of my blood rushing through them for the walker.

I ran until I felt safe enough to stop.

I dropped against a tall, thick trunk. I struggled to breathe normally, gasping for great lung fulls of air. The urge to cry overwhelmed me for a minute, but I tamped it down. I stared up at the sky for a while, letting the familiar sight distract and soothe me. The sun was higher, two fingers breadth higher from the last time I checked.

I dusted myself off, took a swig of water-thankfully I didn't lose it during my running-and started again.

I retraced my steps, keeping careful watch for signs of Walkers and Carl.

I wasn't seeing either.

The sun was climbing higher, the heat rising with it. I'd drained most of my water, and I was tiring. I still hadn't caught sight of Carl by the time I crossed the tree line. I did have to kill a few walkers, but they were easy targets, scattered. I could only hope that the young boy had made his own way back to the farm unharmed.

The alternative was unthinkable.

I staggered through the large yard. There was a large commotion at the camp, panicked voices shouting many things and several bodies running.

I almost cried in relief when I saw Carl among them.

"Abilene?!" Willy screamed, panic lacing his voice as he ran. "Abilene?! Where are ya?!"

Another voice, I'm almost positive was Shane's, was calling for him to be quiet.

Guilt at my brother's panic ate at me. I wanted to ease his fears, let him know I was safe and home.

"I'm here!" I shouted back, waving.

Thundering footsteps approached, the mass of bodies running to greet me.

Willy pulled ahead of the crowd, yanking me into a hug as soon as I was in arm's reach. He pushed back, his face turning a dark red. "What the hell were ya thinkin'?! Going off on yer own in yer condition! Ya know better'n that!"

"I saw Carl go in the woods and you were too far away. I called for Lori but she couldn't hear me, something was going on at the well." I stopped my explanation when he just continued to glare at me. "I'm sorry."

His face crumbled, making my heart twist sharply.

"Do ya have any idea what I'd do if I lost ya?" He asked me, his voice thick and breaking in the last bit.

Guilt swarmed me.

I hadn't told him where I was going or what I was doing. He didn't know where I was, for hours. In this world, that meant death or worse.

Our moment was ruined by the pounding of feet.

The group had caught up to us.

I took a deep breath and prepared myself to face the music, so to speak.

"What happened?" Rick asked, taking point.

I glanced at Carl, tucked safe and sound between his parents. "I saw Carl go into the woods and then I yelled for Lori. Something was happening at the well, she couldn't hear me, so I went in after him to bring him back."

Lori stiffened, her hold on Carl tightening. Her mouth opened to say something back, probably an angry retort about what I was implying.

Rick shook his head at her, expression worn. "We'll talk about this later."

"Is that blood?" Glenn asked, breaking the more awkward family moment.

I'd shifted, my knife hand visible and a splatter of blood on my jeans.

I bit my lip, nodding. "I killed a few walkers. I'm fine, they didn't get close enough to do any harm."

Shuffling, uneasy murmurs from Rick's people. Willy's eyes blazed with worry and anger.

"How far in were you? Do we need to increase patrols?" Rick asked, hands on his hips and gaze steady.

I didn't really have a way to keep track of how long I'd been walking. All I knew for certain was how tired, thirsty and achy I was the whole time I walked back.

Those things hadn't changed a bit. I swayed, struggling to focus on my answer.

"I don't know how far in I went, but I'm guessing I walked about an hour or so." I answered, feeling like I should have been keeping track better and had better answers.

Mostly wishing I could lay down at this moment.

"That's enough for now." Willy interrupted firmly, face and tone daring them to disagree. "Abilene can answer yer questions later, after she's been hydrated an' rested a minimum of two hours."

I was thankful.

Almost all the faces in the group were guilty and apologetic. The exception was Shane, who had a calculating look in his eyes and a frustrated expression.

Willy led me past the group, his arm around my shoulder leaning me against him so he took a good portion of my weight and stabilized my tired, aching body.

"Don't think I've forgotten that I'm angry about ya walking through Walker infested woods in yer condition." Willy informed me as he helped me inside. "I'm takin' my own advice an' talkin' ta ya about it later because yer in no condition to be yelled at right now."

I nodded, knowing he was right.

I did something incredibly stupid and he had a right to be angry.

"What's all the commotion?" Patricia asked, coming from the living room. Her eyes widened when she saw Willy supporting me as he helped me through the house. "What happened?

"Rick's boy went off into the woods alone. What happened was Abilene decided ta take a long walk through the woods, try ta track him down, _by herself_." Willy replied, not pausing or slowing down. "I'm taking her ta rest. She should have a fresh glass of ice water, she's probably dehydrated."

"I'll get it for you." Patricia offered, immediately walking back into the kitchen.

I struggled with the stairs, even with Willy's assistance, but I finally made it to my room.

He faced the wall while I changed into my yoga pants. The blood was cleaned from my skin with a damp cloth. I sank down onto my bed gratefully, letting him take the shoes off my feet. The moment he started to rub them, I knew he wasn't going to yell right now. Knowing him, he was going to wait until I'd been taken care of and rested before he let me see how upset he really was about what I had done.

Patricia came up with two glasses of fresh ice water and two shredded chicken sandwiches on a tray. She set the tray on the bed side table, handing me a glass of ice water.

"Thank you." I murmured, drinking the cold water greedily.

"You rest up now, dear." She replied, patting the hand laying on the bed and leaving the room.

Willy drank a few sips from the second glass while he waited for me to finish eating, but left the majority of the water for me. He didn't even attempt to touch the sandwich, seating himself in the chair near the window.

I decimated the first sandwich within five minutes. It was delicious.

I wanted more.

I turned my head to the bedside table and frowned at the second plate, positioned furthest from me on the other side of the tray.

_Why did it have to be so far away?_ I whined in my head.

My brother, bless his selfless soul, noticed my dilemma. He immediately and without a second thought crossed the room to hand me the remaining chicken sandwich.

I accepted it gratefully, devouring it.

When I had eaten and drank my fill, he replaced the plates and empty glasses on the tray.

"Sleep." Willy urged me softly, backing out of the door with the tray. 


	10. Old Friends

**Disclaimer: I do not own Walking Dead or it's characters. Any unrecognized plot or characters are mine.**

_ **The song for this chapter:** _

_ **From Here to the Moon and Back-Dolly Parton and Chris Kristofferson, slightly altered** _

** _Old Friends _ **

I blinked awake, groaning as my full bladder made itself known.

It was very warm tonight. Not quiet hot, but definitely not cool. The dirty clothes I wore were soaked in sweat and stuck to my skin in certain places.

I wrinkled my nose in disgust.

I grabbed a fresh set of clothes and made quick work of showering, wanting to spend as much time as possible outside. Memory came back to me slowly while my brain powered up to full function.

Rick's group is going to want to bombard me with questions and I have to finish talking to Willy.

_May as well get it over with._ I thought grumpily.

I descended the stairs as fast as I could to find a way to occupy myself in the hopes of finding a small measure of peace before the bombs drop.

Rick's group were throwing me a thank you bonfire in an hour. Apparently there would be food and a rougher version of familiar games from before.

It was sweet, but I wasn't entirely sure it was a good idea.

The preparations for the bonfire made sure the house and yard was bustling with activity, making it easy to slip by and make it seem like I was too busy to talk while I work my way around until I find a spot to hide.

That spot was right behind Daryl's campsite.

No one came out this far, the hunter himself had been roped into helping set up. He had made sure the entire farm knew how happy he was about it, but grudgingly complied.

I sat on a soft patch of grass, closed my eyes and listened to cricket song. It brought back a million memories of growing up with Willy and camping. I opened my eyes, taking in the view. I could see the structure next to Daryl's tent, the house off in the distance with faint yellow light glowing in the windows.

It was peaceful, deceptively so.

I lay on my side so I can look up at the stars.

It was so easy to feel tiny and insignificant when looking up at the large display of pure light of the stars. It also fills me up with childlike wonder at such beauty and purity.

I remember when I was a little girl, I would look out the window and wish really hard that the man in the moon would come down and scoop me up, that he'd take me with him to join the stars. I'd always envied them, being so far up there with thousands of their friends where nothing bad could touch them.

Some things never change, but everything else did.

"Well, look what we have here. If that ain't a lovely little present, I don't know what is." A strong southern accent drawled, as close as two feet from me.

I jerked up, head snapping around to find the source.

My breath caught in my throat.

"What? No welcome mat, no party? We should celebrate, aw yeah, this reunion is a long time coming mmhmm. Waiting for ol Merle to join ya down there? That could sure be arranged." Merle drawled, waving his bandaged hand around lazily and shooting me his trademark grin.

I stood up slowly, my eyes trained on him. "Hello, Merle."

"Well, well, if it ain't short stack! Long time, no see. You filled out, mmhmm, you look good." He drawled, walking closer to me grinning. "Where's that boy'a yers? Ain't gonna come say hello?"

"He's helping set up for the bonfire. You have some strange timing, or good, depending on how you feel about parties and food." I countered, crossing my arms over my chest, taking him in. "Haven't seen you in a while, a month or less?" 

"Aw, now you know I love parties, short stack. Lead the way!" He laughed, gesturing lazily toward the house.

I led him back, my mind racing and fully aware that my back was turned on him the entire walk.

_Willy _ _turned to me, shaking his head. "Abilene, ya ain't gonna believe this."_

_I stared, shock rocking through my entire body. Oh my God. "Is he dead?"_

_The man certainly looked like it. He was in his late forties, early fifties. He had short light brown hair. His face was gaunt, sort of long with sharp cheekbones. He looked like he'd led a hard life. A bloody rag of some sort was wrapped around his hand, some fingers poking out of the top._

_It was a miracle walkers hadn't gotten to him. He was either lucky, which I doubted given his current condition, or he was tougher than nails and refused to die._

_Willy and I exchanged a long look, deliberating._

_"Where can we take him that's safe?" I asked, after a long minute or so of silence. I had decided to save him, if it was possible._

_"We can go ta that sheriff's office. It's secure, it's empty and has cells if he gives us any trouble when he wakes." He answered thoughtfully, staring hard at the stranger. "Are you sure about this, Abi? We don't know this man. We don't owe him nothin'."_

_"We found him, he's injured and he'll die if we leave him here. If he tries anything, you can shoot him, but until then we should help him and give him a chance." I argued, defending my choice and my reasons. "We can use that thing that looks like a trolley a little ways back to move him. It's low enough, I shouldn't have to help you lift him, but we need to hurry."_

_The Sheriff's office was everything Willy said, we set the stranger up in an empty cell. I cleaned and dressed his wound with supplies from our improvised first aid kit, if you could really call it that. The wound was obvious when I removed the bloody rag. The mans thumb was amputated, by something dull from the look of it. I found drugs on him and flushed them immediately, I wouldn't have that nonsense around me. I left him to rest after I sort of force fed him pain killers while he was out, with a clean blanket and pillow from our bags._

_It only took an hour for our guest to wake._

_"Hey, let me outta here, you pigs!" The stranger yelled, his accent distinctively southern. "I ain't done nothin'! You can't keep me in here!"_

_I glanced at Willy, sliding from my chair and walking into the strangers view._

_"Ya don' look like _ _no pig." He drawled, seeming to quiet down some. "What are you doin' here?"_

_"My brother and I found you in the street, we brought you here. I'm sorry about the locked door, it was for our safety in case you turned. I can open it now that you're awake and coherent." I approached the door slowly, watching him for any sudden movements. "I would like your word that you won't harm us or steal our supplies. I'm willing to live in the same space as you, if you agree to a set of mutual rules and boundaries."_

_"What rules?" He rasped, his sharp eyes watching me._

_"If we're in this together, we share all supplies. What's mine is yours, and you do the same. We protect each other's backs from other groups that mean us harm and the dead. I won't take kindly to any funny business on your part, I'll tell you that right now. I'll shoot you where the sun don't shine if you try anything. I draw the line at excessive drinking and drug use, so if you indulge in either or would like to, I can cut you loose. If you decide to leave at any point, we'll give you half of whatever we have and you can be on your way. Sound fair?" I spoke every word slowly and clearly, if he was going to stay with us, he had to understand and obey the rules. Simple as that._

_"If I decide ta take everythin' ya got here an' now, girlie, what's stoppin' me? You? Him?" The stranger demanded, no malice in his eyes. "How do ya know I won't overpower ya?"_

_"I believe everyone deserves a second chance, but they only get one. If you try to overpower us, if I even think I see something in your eyes I don't like, I'll put you down without hesitation. My daddy taught me to shoot, I'm confident I can take the shot. The real question is. . . after the kindness we've shown you, would you really want to do something like that? There's no need for it. You can walk out of here as easily as we brought you in, no hard feelings."_

_"All I have ta do is stop drugs."_

_"Yes."_

_"It ain't gonna be that easy, short stuff. I been using well over twenty years."_

_"If you're truly willing to stop, I'll do everything I can to help you. We're safe here, it's the best place for detoxing. It's up to you."_

_"Why would you help me?"_

_"Why not?"_

_"That's not an answer."_

_"I guess, I hope that if I am ever in the same position one day, someone will do the same. It's a harsh world, harsher than it was before and kindness is even more rare these days. Survival and selfishness are the biggest motives for most survivors now. Why do I hope you'll drop drugs willingly? I believe it will be easier that way. Eventually, the man made drugs will run out and the ones left behind that know how to make them will die. Those that have become dependent on them will suffer for it, so will innocents that cross paths with the users. Maybe, in a way, it's kinder if it's your choice. Either way, it's your decision. I'll let you think on it."_

_I left, walking down the hall toward the dispatch office where Willy had set us up. He thought it would be smart to stash our supplies there, while we slept somewhere nearby. He was squatting outside the office, heating up something in our small soup pot, the windows all around the station secured with spare blankets and boards. The light from the fire and lanterns flickered eerily on the walls._

_He glanced at me as I sat beside him on a small pile of cushions he'd made for me. "How'd it go?"_

_"We'll see. He hasn't given me reason to suspect he'll be uncooperative so far, but don't take my word for it. He hasn't agreed to the rules, yet, so he could still try something. I'll bring him some food after a while and see what he says." I replied carefully. I couldn't say the older man was ready to be released, but I also couldn't say he wasn't. It wasn't a thing you rushed, in any case. For safety reasons._

_Canned chicken, baked beans and green beans was the menu for tonight. I ate with Willy, to give our guest a little extra time to think, then made a plate with a decent sized portion and took it to the cells._

_He was laying down on the cot, staring at the bottom of the bunk above his own. One leg lay straight, the other he bent at the knee. His right arm, the one with the bandaged hand, lay over his forehead and the other hung off the mattress. He almost looked like he was sleeping, but his breathing was too fast, too uneven. He was awake, but resting, maybe thinking as I'd suggested._

_"It isn't much, but it should fill you up. Willy or I have to make a run soon for more food. Atlanta is big, but there are too many dead to safely navigate the city." I sighed, scooting the tray through the slot for him to grab, or not._

_Silence._

_"I know you're not sleeping. It's okay if you don't want to talk, but at least eat." I waited a few more moments, then gave up and slowly turned on my heels. I wouldn't make him speak, I needed to gain his trust, if we were to live together._

_"Name's Merle." He murmured when I was over a foot away, the quiet words might as well have been a gun shot in the silence of the station._

_I stopped, spinning to face the bars. Merle was sitting up on the cot, his eyes were locked on me, the food remained on the floor in front of the door. He was stone still. Watching. Waiting._

_"Hello, Merle. I'm Abilene."_

A soft snap behind me hurtled my brain into the present. We're nearing the camp.

The set up of food, beverages, and sitting spaces had taken up almost all the time before the bonfire was set to begin.

I'd been gone longer than I thought, was my first observation. Another, was that my absence hasn't been noticed. Everyone was finishing up their tasks and congregating at the fire pit in the middle of camp.

I see Hershel agreed, just this once, that it was alright to use the chairs from inside the house. Willy must have finally talked him into it, the farmer had been adamant when I slipped out that he wouldn't allow it. He gave Willy and Rick a long lecture on little critters that could hitch a ride into his home on the chairs if we didn't wash them.

"Ya didn't tell me ya shacked up wit Rick. Ya have any idea what the prick did ta me?" Merle growled, spinning me around to face him. He raised his hand up to rest against my cheek, the bandages brushing my skin. "Ya shackin' up wit him, are ya? Are ya?"

I let him rage, waiting for the worst to pass before I answered.

"We're living in the farm house and Rick is out on the lawn in a tent. I know of him, have talked to him, but I don't live with him in the sense you're implying." I stared Merle down calmly.

We resumed walking toward camp, now close enough to be seen clearly.

I knew the second Merle and I were noticed. The entire group stilled and stiffened, like time stopped suddenly. Then they stirred in a riot of activity. Shane demanded answers about what was going on, demanding guns and violence. Andrea agreed. Rick appeared to be in shock, attempting to calm Shane and take control of the situation. Lori grabbed Carl and herded him into the R. V, Carol right behind them. Glenn, T-Dog and Dale were standing together, prepared, but waiting for word or direct threat.

Daryl was frozen in place, staring.

Willy walked cautiously closer, ignoring Rick's calls to stay with the group.

"City boy!" Merle shouted in greeting, laughing. "Long time, no see, but it sure looks like ya were expectin' me. Nice little party ya got goin' here. Cozy little set up. Got food, protection, an' women. Small wonder ya kept it ta yourself."

"Abi." Willy barked, stretching a hand out. "Why don't ya come take a seat? Say, Merle, I'm sure we have enough ta go around. Sit down, take a load off."

I edged forward, watching Merle to see if he'd allow it, but he remained motionless. I walked faster, crossing the small distance to Willy and attaching myself to his side.

"Ya got any beer? Whiskey?" Merle asked, walking past us and heading to the fire.

"Never found any on runs." Willy deadpanned.

"Too bad we burned through them bottles, hey city boy." He called over his shoulder.

I caught up just in time to catch everyone's expression when they saw who had joined us for dinner. Rick, T-Dog and Glenn was relief mixed with cautious dislike. Dale was surprised, but otherwise quiet and blank. Andrea and Shane were still aggressive, suspicious and outright angry. Daryl was the reaction that confused me.

He looked like any of us would look if we were dropped back into our life before.

"Hey, baby brother, ya miss me? Sure as hell didn' come looking when yer pal Rick left me on that roof. The sun beatin' down on me, freaks bangin' on the door ta eat me alive." Merle spat on the ground at Rick's feet, prowling the ground between them like a caged tiger. "Had ta cut off my thumb, get myself off that damn roof. I saved myself! No thanks ta you assholes!"

"Merle." I called softly, jarring him out of his rant.

"Ah, yes, short stack. Ya said somethin' 'bout a party, this what ya had in mind? Hmm? Sure ain't what I pictured, that's for sure."

All heads swung to me, confusion plastered on their faces.

"I rescued Rick's boy. Party was to celebrate."

"By all means, let's celebrate!"

"We should probably talk first, clear the air."

Merle cocked his head, eyes boring into me. "Ya got somethin' ya want ta say ta me, short stack?"

"In private, please, Merle. It's important." I pressed carefully, aware this could go a number of ways.

A nasty grin spread over his face, his eyes glowing with mischief.

"Merle." Willy warned softly, shifting closer to me.

In response the older man laughed, tossing up his hands and backing up a few steps. "We're old friends, city boy. Ol Merle just wanted ta get a little rise outta her, that's all. Meek little things ain't half as fun as yer little spitfire there when she's all riled up."

I led him toward the house. I wouldn't take him inside, but it would be more private than standing next to the group.

"I have to come clean. I need you to listen closely and take this seriously, Merle, because I don't lie." I began, pausing to wait for his response. "I knew the day we found you who you were, but I didn't say anything because you weren't in a fit state to remember anything. Afterward, I decided not to because you were recovering and we were all concentrating on surviving. I don't think there is such a thing as perfect timing, but this is as good a time as any."

He groaned, clearly impatient and bored.

"The day we found you isn't the first time you and I met. You probably don't even remember it, but I do. It was roughly five months ago, we didn't talk or exchange numbers or anything like that. You met some buddies at a bar, I was fending off a jerk who wouldn't take a hint or a hike. We hooked up that night." I took a deep breath, pooling strength of mind and will. "

He bulked, anger crackling all around him like electricity.

"It took me a while to put the pieces together, but I did. I realized that you didn't wear a condom and I'd switched pills, so it didn't take." I swallowed. Here goes nothing. "After, during one of my appointments I asked for a paternity test. The sample matched. You're the father of my baby." 

Merle was quiet. Too quiet. It made me nervous. "Yer tryin' ta tell me, I fucked ya witout knowin' we wa'n't usin' protection an' that's my kid? I don' think so, sweetheart. Try some other sucker."

"Before you reached me you were talking filthy about a celebration you needed for some deal you closed. One of them you called Slim Gin, the other was Bobbino." I said, I dug through my memory for evidence he would believe. "He called you Sergeant."

Merle froze midstep, his back ramrod straight and his shoulders stiff.

"I don't expect anything from you, Merle. I think you should know and decide what you want for yourself."

"Decide? Just what the hell is there ta decide, short stack? Ya tell me yer carryin my kid, an' expect me ta-what?" He asked, swinging around to face me an array of emotions crossing his face and disappearing just as fast. "That kid is a Dixon, my blood whatever may have happened. Ya don' turn yer back on blood. Daryl's old enough ta fend for himself, I let the drugs rule my life and pull me from him. That was my mistake, I won't make it again."

"You're not your father." I told him, filing away everything he's told me for later.

He tensed, his face closing off.

"In Atlanta, when you were recovering, you said a lot of things. I haven't told Willy about them or that you are the father. I won't because the first story isn't mine to tell and I thought we should probably break the news to our brothers are the same time."

"Why the hell do ya care?"

"I was a victim of my birth father for seven years. You were stuck in a life you didn't choose, with a family you didn't choose and doing everything you could to stay alive through it all. We're not as different as you think, Merle."

"Ya want ta sit beside the fire braiding hair an' tradin' sob stories now?"

"I want you to know that I don't blame you and I don't hate you. I want this baby, no matter how he was conceived."

Merle spat to the side, shifting in place and grinding his teeth.

I stepped back, giving him space. I glanced toward the camp, waving a hand at him to join me if he wanted and walked back toward the bonfire. Rick's group was mostly as we'd left them. Carol and Lori were outside with the others and everyone was convened in a circle around the fire. Apparently, they were having a discussion about us while also interrogating Willy.

Shane charged forward a few steps, Rick quickly following. "You knew Merle and you didn't think we should know?"

I sighed. "I didn't know he knew you until tonight. We didn't exactly braid our hair and gossip like school girls, Shane. We were more concerned with more pressing matters, like _survival_."

"Bullshit! You're with him! What's the plan, huh? Gonna team up, hit us when our guards down?" Shane demanded, aggression and suspicion rolling off him like heat off of one hundred degree asphalt.

"We don't know that they're planning anything. We never mentioned Merle to her or Hershel. When would she have heard or gleaned that we knew him? She's been inside with the Greene family, or outside with at least one of us watching her." Rick was using his cop voice, doing his best to talk his partner down. "You wanna question the whole camp? Make sure no one let anything slip?"

"Now you're making sense. One of them must have let it slip when we were searching for Sophia, or she knew and didn't say anything. You expect me to believe it's coincidence she knows Merle, he shows up here a week after we do and she's here. Hell, she walked him right to our door!" Shane shouted, throwing his hand out in my direction. "How long are you going to remain in the dark?!"

"We don't know for sure what happened out there. She hasn't tried to hurt us or Hershel's family, she already confessed to us why she's here, and I do believe that this may all be a coincidence. We can ask some questions and go from there."

"Do you even hear yourself? Wake up! She just happens to find Merle on a stroll. Merle was left behind in Atlanta, she knows him and he just happens to show up to the very farm we are using for camp. The common denominator is her! We can't trust her! What will have to happen before you realize that?"

I had edged away from Rick and Shane as they argued, but now Shane's head swiveled to me.

"Where the hell you think you're going?" He demanded, grabbing hold of my arm and shaking me as he brought me closer.

"Ya best let her go." A cold, hard voice snapped angrily from behind me. "Now!"

"This ain't none of your business, Dixon." Shane snapped back, ignoring the clear warning.

A large hand closed over Shane's arm, squeezing until the knuckles turned white. Merle's head came into view next, leaning over my shoulder. "It is my business, seein' as we're such good friends, as ya pointed out. We hooked up back in the day, before the whole damn world went crazy. That's my blood she's carrying."

Shane released my arm reluctantly, Merle stepping up to stand beside me.

Rick watched my face carefully. "Is this true?"

I nodded. "I didn't know for sure until I found out how far along I was and that even though a woman is five months pregnant she got pregnant six months previous."

"You can't seriously-" Shane began heatedly, ready to continue arguing.

"Enough, brother!" Rick silenced him firmly. "Enough. This is supposed to be a celebration. No more of this tonight."

Shane clenched his jaw, storming away. Andrea met him hallway and they disappeared into the R. V.

Once the peace was restored, Rick did his best to get the party back on track. There was a brief time where questions were fired as the group grabbed some grub. Lori fetched Carl from the R. V, getting food and settled into chairs.

Merle had been the first to grab food and stole a seat beside my chair.

The food was a greasy, sinfully delicious smorgasbord of things I probably shouldn't eat, but decided to splurge on just this once.

The handmade burgers with the secret family seasoning recipe were one of the first things to be made. Jimmy snuck me one to eat just to try it and my mind was immediately blown. It tasted fantastic! I could even use the word addictive, since I grabbed two more while he was busy flipping another set of burgers.

I took my loot to the spot I'd chosen and dug in to a burger.

"Abilene, ya know that's not a good idea." Willy narrowed his eyes at me sternly, hands on his hips as he stood in front of me.

I froze, guilty.

"I've been keeping a healthy diet; everything baked or roasted, hardly any junk food, barely any sweets, no soda or caffeine. I've been good about not complaining or sneaking stuff I shouldn't, and I wanted to treat myself a little bit." I cranked up the shine on my eyes to full power and stuck out my bottom lip a tad.

"Now, don' ya try that, Abi, it won' work this time." He told me firmly, stance and tone unwavering.

_Well, shoot. I gave it my best shot_. I sighed, handing over the burger.

He ate said burger in front of me, which I deserved for the sneaking and diet breaking.

Everyone was outside, including Hershel and his family. Conversation flowed easily and laughter was frequent once the ice was broken regarding Merle, happy vibes echoed throughout the group clustered around our, slightly muted for safety, bonfire.

Of course, it couldn't last forever.

"Why did you help us? You have no tie or obligation to our group." Carol asked during a lull in conversation, something in her eyes told me she needed to hear my answer, needed to understand.

I thought for a moment, constructing a logical reason for my actions.

"We don't know how many uninfected humans are left or where they are. For all we know, everyone here is all that's left. If that is true, we have to support each other or all is lost." I murmured, each word a stab to my heart. "Carl is a child who was lost, wandering the woods alone, in this world there is nothing worse to be."

I uselessly wished the world wasn't so. Carl could've gone, simply vanished or been found after the dead had already----no, I won't think like that. He's safe, with his parents. 

The group sat in solemn silence, pondering the grim truth of my words.

After a little while, Glenn disappeared and returned with a guitar.

Willy's face lit up like a Christmas tree. I laughed, making Beth look at me like I'd grown a second head.

"Can I try it out?" Willy asked, tentatively reaching a hand out, eyes alight with hope.

"Sure, man." The other man answered, handing over the guitar without complaint. "You know how to play?"

Willy checked the sound of each string first, making small adjustments to a few, then burst into a little tune I recognized. His fingers strummed and glided across the strings with an ease that came from years of practice.

Glenn nodded. "I'll take that as a yes."

I closed my eyes, letting the sound wash over me. We needed this, something to brighten a dark night in a ruthless world. Something to break the tense atmosphere between Shane and Merle.

Even though Shane had given up on outright arguing, he didn't have a subtle bone in his body. He wanted to start something with Merle and he was trying to do it in a way that Dixon took all the heat. The glares and not so subtle digs were really starting to get old.

Daryl stayed close, seemingly having a silent conversation with Merle when most of the attention was elsewhere.

Willy changed the tune to a song I hadn't heard in a long time. He stood and moved closer to me, playing the opening as slowly as possible. "Ya remember this, Abi?"

I shook my head quickly, knowing what he was doing. "Oh, no, you sing it."

"Ya know darn well I can' sing it by myself, it's a duet." He replied, cool as a cucumber, a grin on his face.

I groaned. He was right, and I knew he wouldn't give up until I caved.

"Fine." I sighed, resigned.

I'd do it for Carl. Today was a really good day.

I ignored the raised eyebrows and confused expressions thrown my way as Willy played the opening of the song from the beginning.

"This is something our mother sang for me a few times when I doubted the sincerity of her love for me." I said in way of introduction to the song.

_I could hold out my arms,_

_say "I love you this much"_

_I could tell you how long I will long for your hugs,_

_How much and how far would I go to prove,_

_the depth and the breadth of my love for you. . ._

I smiled at Willy briefly, and his voice joined mine.

_From here to the Moon and back,_

_Who else in this world will love you like that?_

_Love everlasting_

_I promise you that_

_From here to the Moon and back,_

_From here to the Moon and back_

I glanced around the group, landing on the boys parents. Faces and words of a world past spun behind my eyes as I remembered my own mother singing this very song to me. She always knew what to say to make me feel loved and wanted.

_I want you to know you can always depend,_

_On promises made and love without end,_

_No need to wonder how long it will be_

_Now and on into eternity_

I locked eyes with Willy, singing directly to him even though we sang as one. I poured all my love, gratitude and all the words I wanted to say to him into it. Because of him, his family, and their endless love I was almost completely healed. I owed them everything.

_From here to the Moon and back,_

_Who else in this world will love you like that?_

_Forever and always,_

_I'll be where you're at,_

_From here to the Moon and back_

_From here to the Moon and back_

Willy smiled at me. He knew.

After a brief glance at the varying expressions around the campfire, I lifted my gaze to the stars. One star in particular twinkled bright and beautiful close to the moon.

_I would blow you a kiss from the star where I sat,_

_I would call out your name to echo through the vast_

Willy sang the next line in his deep tones, the slight twang familiar and comforting.

_Thank heaven for you and to God, tip my hat_

_And I'll spend forever just proving that fact_

_From here to the Moon and back_

_From here to the Moon and back_

Lori and Rick were looking at their child the way my mother had looked at me. I knew the song was the right choice, they were happy.

"That was beautiful. Thank you for sharing it with us." Dale murmured with a wet smile.

The compliment was echoed in some variations by almost everyone. The exceptions being Shane, Merle and Daryl. Shane was scowling in his typical fashion, leaving the circle altogether rather than speak a decent word about our performance.

I shrugged it off. I enjoyed singing, Carl enjoyed it, so it was a win win for me.

Daryl was quiet, thoughtful. He left not long after, heading to his tent with Merle in tow.

I smiled at the group, who smiled at me, feeling lighter than I had all day. I developed the urge to walk around, get some alone time while I could. I flagged Willy to grab his attention. "I'm heading in."

"Goodnight." He called as I started walking away.

"Goodnight." I replied over my shoulder.

I slept like a log, completely exhausted.


	11. What Hell Is This?

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with the Walking Dead. **

**Also, I totally balled while writing a good portion of this. Have a box of tissues handy. **

I groaned, stretching my arms over my head, feeling the muscles pull. That felt nice. 

I glanced over to where the group was huddled around the fire, Carol's cooking breakfast. My eyes caught Daryl in one of the lawn chairs, a leg crossed over one knee and looking relatively relaxed. My gaze strayed to the older Dixon. It certainly was an adjustment, Merle showing up after our separation, wiggling his way into our lives. Again. Eating breakfast with Daryl and the group, walking and working around the farm, talking and laughing. 

I noticed the definite, unmistakable tension caused by the appearance, between Merle and T-Dog in particular. 

I also noticed that Merle stuck close by Daryl and I for the most part, watching and listening. My keeper card was plenty full enough, without the newest addition. I didn't appreciate his apparent need to shadow me and butt his nose into my conversations. They were _my_ conversations. If they concerned him, I could see why he felt he had the right to listen in or comment. They didn't, so I don't. 

I walked outside, calling a brief 'hello' to the assembled and tugged Merles' arm to grab his attention. I jerked my head to the left, silently telling him to follow me to the side of the house. Rick and Lori watched, curious, but didn't ask. 

I was grateful. 

"Ya been waitin' ta get me all alone, short stack?" He drawled, grinning at me. 

"You need to stop, Merle. The watching my every move, the listening in to my conversations, everything. I can understand your concern for my physical well-being and I appreciate it, but not the ghost act." I told it to him straight, in a hushed tone not willing to risk anyone overhearing. Wind carries voices and corners hide eavesdroppers. "I hate feeling tracked like your damn deer. I don't love the stares the entire farm is giving me, because your eavesdropping on private and public discussions." 

"I got a right ta look after ya, ya'n the kid're kin." He hissed, smile long gone, having disappeared the more I spoke. "I don' give a damn if the whole fuckin' town stares at ya cuz I'm doin' right by ya. I take care'a my blood. Ya don' like it? Too damn bad! Ya best jest get used ta it!"

"Merle." I sighed, dreading the fact that he was gearing up for a fight. 

"I don' trust _Deputy __Shane _as far as I can throw that Otis fella I heard 'bout." He sneered Shane's name, clear distaste in his expression, turning his head to spit. "No good sum'bitch. Can' leave ya runnin' 'round here unprotected." 

"I never said you weren't doing right by me, but do you really need to listen in to every single talk I have with anyone that isn't you?" I tried to reason, make him understand without turning this into a bigger argument. "I'm not saying pack a bag and hit the road, or move out into the middle of the fields. I'm _asking you _to respect the fact that some things are private. That I would enjoy, sometimes, to stroll around camp without a thousand eyes on me the whole time. Is that so horrible?" 

He shifted his stance, jaw working as he chewed on my mini monologue. 

I sighed, running my hand through my ponytail. "I promise I'm not doing this to be a bitch, degrade you, or anything else that's rattling around your head. I just want--I want a little more wiggle room than you've been giving me. Not an acre, or a mile, but maybe more than an inch or so. Okay?" 

He nodded, scrubbing a hand over his stubble. 

"Thank you." I whispered sincerely, relieved. That ended better than I thought it might. 

Merle grunted, stomping off. Possibly to grab some food, if it was ready.

I smothered a smile while I entered the house, my stomach growling loud enough to wake a hibernating bear. Patricia handed me a plate silently, giving me a wan smile when I thanked her quietly. She was slowly getting better, but was still withdrawn compared to when I arrived. I ate my breakfast at the table, cleared my dishes and fed the chickens. 

The heat climbed. I soon had to retreat inside, cool down in the air conditioning. Hershel's orders. 

Speaking of, he and Rick disappeared not long ago, without explanation. 

I shrugged it off, taking a brief nap. 

* * *

I had settled down at the dining room table to finish reading a book Beth loaned me, refreshed by my hour long nap, when an unmistakable sound filtered through the open window. 

Gunshots.

I scrambled out of the chair, flying across the hallway and down the front steps as fast as I dared. 

The camp was empty, so was the RV from what I could see. No one else was panicking at the sound of gunfire, no screams. I scanned the surrounding fields for any clues. There. I could make out the faint outline of several people by the barn. That had to be where the shots were coming from. 

I ran as fast as my condition allowed, not much beyond a jog really. My heart lodged itself in my throat and my blood pounded in my ears. almost drowning out the last of the gunshots. 

I stopped at the rear of the assembly, panting. 

I rocked back in shock. 

Walkers. A decent sized patch of of ground in front of the open barn door was littered with walker corpses. At least six, at my count. Some were intertwined, limbs tangled together making it difficult to eyeball an accurate number. 

Rick's group, Hershel and his family, Patricia, Jimmy, Willy and Merle were gathered in front of the bodies. Nearly everyone had a gun, save Hershel's people and the other mothers. 

What the hell is going on? Were the walkers _inside _the barn? Why would Hershel do that?

I scanned the bodies, confused. On the second pass, I froze. 

My breath caught in my throat. Dirty brunette hair in a ponytail half tore out of its tie and hanging limply against her, face gaunt and drawn--it didn't matter. I recognized the female walker and the male a foot to her right. Joel. Linda. If they were walkers. . . . 

A low growl caught my attention, my eyes swinging to the barn. It had come from inside, confirming my theory on how the walkers came to be laid out as they were. A small, tall, thin body staggered out of the born in a filthy rainbow shirt and jean shorts. There was an obvious bite wound where her neck met her shoulder, poor girl. She was tentative, almost, at first until the breeze blew our scent to her and she began to snap at us more hungrily. Her height almost hid the smaller body following behind her. 

Lifeless milky eyes, messy blonde curls and a pink dress with a bow around the waist greeted me. 

_No. No! NO!_

"Missy?" I sobbed, jogging toward her. "No, oh, no. Missy. Missy!" 

Merle snagged me around the chest, his arm a hard steel band keeping me from moving forward. He lowered me to the ground and held me there. 

My girl. My baby girl. Baby girl. Baby girl. Baby girl. 

This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be real. 

Please, God, no. 

Missy stumbled the rest of the way out of the barn, slowly advancing across the bodies. She was dirty, her dress had small tears and dried mud splattered on the bottom. Her sneakers and Hello Kitty socks were absolutely filthy, but her face and hair had only a thin dusting of dirt. The large bite wound covered her neck, she was so small. My tiny girl. Her clear blue eyes were now milky and clouded with death. Her glowing skin was ashen and chalky white, the skin beneath her eyes sunken. I could recognize her on sight, but she wasn't my beautiful baby girl anymore. 

"Missy." I whimpered before sobbing harder, clutching Merle's arms. "Missy. Missy."

Willy strode past me, his pistol drawn and pointing downward. 

No. Please no. 

I struggled against the arm holding me, futilely. 

He raised a shaky hand, his back and shoulders tense. 

Please. She's only five. 

Merle's arms tightened around me in a quick burst, the short imitation of a hug. I waited for the shot, my nails digging into his arms. He let me, his only response to my treatment was a grunt. 

Nothing happened. 

Willy lowered his arm, yelling hoarsely, a growl of frustrated pain tearing from his lips. He turned sharply, the pistol held barrel up beside his ear, walking a few feet to regain his resolve before swiveling and walking back. He raised his hand, which trembled as badly as it had the first time he leveled his sights on her. 

My breath came faster, my heart stuttering and skipping beats as time dragged on. The boom of a gunshot echoed in the distance, but my eyes were only for Willy. Crying vaguely registered, but I couldn't look, afraid that as soon as I did I'd see the other walker child dead. 

He dropped his arm and stepped back a good ten feet, smacking the side of his head roughly and breathing in short harsh puffs. He was riling himself up, trying to make himself pull the trigger. I'd seen him do the same thing when he had to put down a woman he'd been going around with from our last group. He hadn't spoken for two weeks, guilt ridden, though I tried to remind him that it wasn't his fault she died. The gun came up again, aimed at Missy's head. He kept her in his sights, his gun bobbing slightly as he fought to stare her in the eye. He lowered the gun a third time, a cry of dismay rending the air. He closed the distance between them fast and circled her, leveling at the back of her head. She started to follow, but someone behind me made intentional continuous noise to distract her. 

I could see his face now and I immediately wished I hadn't. 

Tears flowed freely down his cheeks, his eyebrows furrowed low over tortured eyes. His teeth and jaw were clenched tight, his entire body a rigid line of tension. He held the gun to the back of her head for what felt like years, before his body slumped and he crashed to his knees, the gun slipping from loose fingers. "I can't. God help me, I _can't._" He choked, the tears falling faster. He bent forward until his forehead touched the ground, his shoulders shaking with barely audible sobs. 

Missy ignored him, the continuous noise and huddled breathing bodies holding all of her focus. She stumbled away from him and toward us, the distance growing smaller with each uneven step. 

Merle had drug me further from the barn when Willy had first failed to pull the trigger, we were halfway between the barn and the gated fence now. 

Movement on my right barely registered, Missy was still standing. Rick's back blocked my view, but I could see him lift his right arm and I absolutely heard a hammer cock. No. NO! I struggled against Merle's hold anew, clawing at his arms and kicking. No, don't, please. Please, no! Please--

A gunshot severed the thought instantly, the small thump that followed brought Missy's head into view. There was a hold in her forehead, above her button nose, between her eyes. 

My throat hurt so bad. Why did it hurt? What was that noise? It hurt my ears. 

I stopped caring about what it was when Merle finally released me. I crawled rapidly to Missy, cradling her to me and crying. A solid weight at my back and the familiar smell were all that told me Willy was hugging me. All I could see was my girl, all I could hear was my crying and the sound of my heart shredding. 

**Daryl**

It was unexpected, the lil girl comin' outta the barn. It left the whole group reelin', I could see it in their faces. It's different this time, they bein' child walkers, it bein' _Sophia._

I'd released Carol once Rick put down the other kid. She ran off, ta be alone in her grief, as was her right. 

What was worse was the pregnant girl callin' for the child, a strong grown man breaking like badly spun glass, Abilene crawlin' for the girl like a demon ta cradle her lil body. An' that _sound _she made when the body fell. It wa'n't human. Made all the hairs on my arms raise up. It was tortured, the terrible scream'a pure anguish. Prob'ly have nightmares 'bout that scream, ne'er heard anythin' like it in my life. Hope ta ne'er hear it again. Or tha wailin' came after. 

One'a the farmers daughters went ta a body in tha pile, sobbin' an' tossin' another walkers arm off her. "Mama."

Shit. 

The female walker grabbed ahold'a the blonde, snarlin', an' she started screechin'. Rick, T-Dog, Glenn, Shane an' Andrea rushed forward ta pull 'em apart. Andrea grabbed a scythe from somewhere 'round the barn an' drove it through the walkers head. 

Hershel an' his family left promptly after. Shane hounded their steps, Rick followin' after him. Jimmy stayed behind, starin' dumbly at the dead. 

Abilene an' Willy hadn' moved a muscle throughout the whole thing, didn' seem ta register what was happenin' 'round 'em. Merle stood close, but not too close, left hand on his holster. Lookin' out for 'em while they grieved. 

Shane returned first, Rick trailin' behind him a bit. It's obvious they'd argued. 

"Who's the kid?" Shane asked abruptly in his usually callous an' tactless approach. He stood in a casual stance, shot gun slung over his shoulder. "Why was she in there?" 

"Shut the hell up, ain't none'a yer business." I snapped, bastard shouldn' be bringin' that shit up when there're clearly more important things happenin'. Obviously the kid mean a hell'a lot ta 'em, or they wouldn' be mournin' her like that. She was kin'a some sort, my guess. 

"For God's sake, Shane, this isn't the time or place." Lori hissed, appalled, before steering her son away. Dale took Carl ta the farmhouse. She didn't leave, regrouping with her husband briefly by the fence an' whisperin' fervently with worried faces. Her glances toward the walkers an' the forest clear what her concerns were.

At least she had a lick'a sense.

"Do you want us to start burying?" T-Dog asked Rick when he saw him.

"We should hold a service. Hershel, Carol and Abilene would want that." Andrea suggested.

"We all want that." He countered, walking forward a few steps.

Rick stood silent, starin' at the grieving family.

Lori took charge, once she saw her husband couldn't. "Let's dig a grave for Sophia, Missy, Shawn and Annette over by those trees." She pointed ta a grove'a trees behind an' ta the left'a the barn. "We'll need a truck to move the bodies."

"I'll get the keys." JImmy volunteered quietly.

"No, I got the truck." Shane muttered, leaving without another word or a glance at anyone.

"And the others? That's a lot of digging." Jimmy said, wordlessly counting the dead.

"We bury the ones we love and burn the rest." Andrea informed him grimly.

"Let's get to work." Lori sighed, the words the motivation the group needed to separate an' begin preppin' the bodies for transport.

We worked in silence, the occasional grunt or sound'a exertion the only noise for a while. Shane drove Otis' blue truck into view, stalkin' over ta a body ta throw in the bed.

Andrea wavered a few feet from Abilene, uncertain.

"Should we do something? We can't leave her like this." She whispered, gesturin' ta the child, though it was loud enough in the silence that she may as well'a been speakin' at normal volume. "Is there a blanket around here we could use to cover her?"

"There may be a blanket in the barn. It would be for horses, most likely, but it would be big enough." Jimmy offered, pausin' where he'd been draggin' a walker toward the grove of trees.

"Ya ain't usin' a damn horse blanket on her." Merle snarled, not glancin' at either'a 'em. "Ya can't find anythin' decent ta offer, boy, keep yer mouth shut. She hears that shit, she's liable ta knock ya inta next month."

"There's nothing, short of bringing that child back, that could truly help them." Rick murmured, guilt heavy in his eyes an' posture. He spoke with the knowledge of someone who's been there, who understands what hell they were livin'. "We let them have the time they need to mourn, support them however much they let us, and just be here."

The blanket was used to cover Sophia.

Hershel's oldest, the brunette, brought a sheet ta wrap the body in, keepin' a respectful distance as she handed it ta Merle an' backed off quick.

"We have shovels out back, when you're ready." The brunette told them softly.

Willy finally glanced up. "I ain't buryin' her in nothin' but a damn sheet. She deserves better'n that."

He stood, snatched the sheet from Merle an' shook it out some. He gently laid it over the small body, carefully turnin' her so he could tuck it under an' properly swaddle her in it. He said somethin' ta Abilene, she nodded absently, but didn't move or speak. He picked up the child with extreme care, carryin' her off toward the farmhouse, without so much as a passin' glance for the rest of us.

Merle, in turn, picked up Abilene an' carried her to the house, takin' the time ta spit in Shane's direction.

Shane peeled down the road with a disgusted huff not long after.


End file.
